


White Chains

by ostagaar



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergent, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostagaar/pseuds/ostagaar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris usually doesn't act up ever since Hawke gave him back to his old Master. The second he did, he was sold off again to a much, seemingly better family in House Pavus. Taken place between DA2 and DAI.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Always had the headcanon that Fenris belonged to the Pavus' at some point as a slave, so I kinda worked off the idea of when you have the choice to give him back to Danarius during DA2. (Dorian is canonly confirmed 30 years old in DAI, so here I made him 19-21)
> 
> This is all a huge WIP since I just putting my headcanons down into stories. I'm no writer, I do fanart mostly. So excuse the obvious typos, repeated phrases, and limited and recycled vocabulary,.

The morning sky in Qarinus filled with orange shades, bird songs, and numbers. Prices, to be exact, being thrown out into a crowd of hungry buyers in hopes of making a catch.

Voices filled the air as dawn broke, gold sunlight cracking over the horizon. Mourners amongst friends and families, traveling to gather in one particular spot. All of it being talk of spendings of gold on a particularly common practice in Tevinter: Buying slaves.

This day in Tevinter was like every other. It was hot, very humid, and the city of Qarinus stirred with excitement. New shipments of slaves came every month to be auctioned off to the highest bidders. Each slave was unloaded by the lot, brought to the auctioning house early in the morning, right before brunch. Auctions usually ran between morning to late afternoon, to make sure all of the slaves would be sold. Those who were not bidded on where forced back onto the ship they came in on, to find another city in hopes of being useful enough to be bought. There were crowds from other cities around the Tevinter Imperium in hopes of getting good deals on even better slaves in Qarinus' sales.

It was interested magisters mostly, nobles too. Really, anyone with money and a large enough home required a slave to help with daily chores. Whether it was babysitting, laundry, cooking, cleaning, teaching...specific slaves were trained to do it specific tasks, making them highly desirable by Magisters with larger families. Slaves with more skill sets were sold first at higher prices than the others, seeing how they were more obviously wanted. The rest sold at a discount to any family daring enough to teach a slave a new skill on their own time, which, hardly any family wanted to waste their time doing.

Families were kept busy with politics and magic studies in Tevinter. To own a slave and to teach it while overrun with work was not exactly the most popular option. Some families were smart enough to plan ahead, however, saving up to afford a talented slave to teach new ones. It was a long tedious system of teachings to innocents, mistreatment and greedy, rich families.

There was a large crowd buzzing and gathering at an auction house in the corner of the city, filling up every space as each minute passed. Families were in bunches, grouped together; some gathering beneath large pillars and resting on the bases as they waited for the event to start, talking quietly amongst themselves. Talk amongst the crowd involved curious buyers, magisters, and rich noblemen. Occasionally, a commoner too, trying to buy a slave for help around their small family. Though, despite the odds of winning the highest bid, they would still show up. Still potential buyers, as the slaves would see them.

It was easy to tell when it was ready to start, because the slaves were brought up in their chains to be shown off, grouped in bunches off to the side and away from the main stage. Beside the main auction stage was the longer one, along the sides, showing off the days pickings of slaves; creating a type of queue line for them as they prepared to be sold. A rather large man, waddled his way up a ramp onto the main stage as he began introducing the event to then start out numbers rather obnoxiously, pointing as he did his job of selling off each slave brought to the city. 

The process of the auction was rather simple. The auctioneer would give off hasty directions, setting prices and calling out the names and numbers of the slaves, bidders, and prices. Of course, the highest bidder would win the slave, and have their new addition set to the side of the stage to be escorted. He would then tell the winner where to exchange their money for their prize, a table far behind the crowd of slavers and magisters' assistants, and pluck the next victim out of its shackles and show it off to the crowd to be sold next. 

It was exciting on these days for Tevinters, but days like these would also make the slaves' stomachs churn in return. Some slaves at these events actually wanted to be sold, desperately. Clinging onto the idea that leaving the slavers and settling in a home, good or bad, working for a family, would be much better. And it likely was. Slavers treated their slaves like objects; worse than some of the notorious magisters. But no one dared question their treatment, as a Tevinter noble would see it as just and fair. They were just slaves after all. Others weren't so optimistic, feeling physically sick and anxious as their bare feet cross the stages. Perhaps from either the hunger from their mistreatment, or the fear of being sold away to a horrible new home; often, other slavers. Stories would be shared amongst the slaves during their transports on dangerous ships and wagons, telling whomever was new about the cautions they would need to take In order to remain safe.

The slaves would shuffle silently, mostly elves, as they were called up to the podium to be sold off. Some had been auctioned more than once, sold back again and again if something was imperfect about them, and knew the protocol. Others were not so lucky; fighting with every bit of strength they had left, which usually, wasn't a whole lot. Their shackles kept them weighed down to the floor, hands and throats in tight binds of rope. Their bellies ached with a vast hunger from being starved to look good and thin for the auction attendees. 

The elves sandwiched together, pressed tightly to another on all sides as they moved slowly across the longer stage, set to the side, to be showed off to potential buyers that crowded around it. Their eyes selectively picking through them, and their mouths discussing the potentials. It would make some of the new elves shake, being watched and judged; others used to this kind of scheme. Some knew how to act to attract buyers, usually aiming for the rich families in the crowd with the children. 

Yes, the magisters even brought their children. Sometimes, their opinions helped pick out which slave they wanted for their family. Desperate elves targeted them, greeting the families with a fake smile to impress them as they waited in queue to be sold off. They would show them tricks, speak kind words to the families. Brag about their skills and what they know. They were smart, manipulative, and desperate.

And Fenris noticed that most of all.

The young elf, Fenris, was sold off back to a slaver when he had displeased his previous owner, Danarius. A simple mistake of disobeying an order to attack a child. Regret filled his mind the day Danarius sent him away without as much as a goodbye. After years of servitude, he sold him again. Fenris expected to get beat or locked up, a common punishment at least, but this time Danarius took it too far. His master sold him again, hoping to "teach a lesson to a spoiled elf." Fenris accepted the opportunity and chance of freedoms from his tormenting Master with open arms, despite his remaining social status. At this point, anything was better than being a slave to Danarius.

He snapped back to reality, ears flickering at the sound of a child beneath him, chirping happily and reaching out to touch him. Fenris knelt down to a family at the base of the ramp he stood on, greeting them with a soft smile. The children asked to pet him, but the parents refused to let them touch "such a filthy thing," and pulled them away. Fenris hid his embarrassment and stood back up, staring along the crowd.

A particular family caught his eye. A new one just arriving it seemed. A young man was with his father, eyeing the set of elves in the queue. When Fenris felt the two sets of eyes on him, he felt his hope flare up again, smiling at them and giving a small wave. When the son pointed at him, he knew he had a chance. He bent his knees again, to get level with the approaching family. 

The father and son pushed through the crowd to get a closer look; Fenris' ears twitching in anticipation as he watched in silence, feeling the crowd of elves shuffle forward a bit as one was successfully sold off. His ear would twitch again, picking up the sound of the father and sons current conversation. 

"--Prefer if you chose a female--"

That was the first thing that caught Fenris' attention when they neared, and Fenris tilted his head, listening carefully, trying to focus on their words and not the conversations being carried on by the crowd.

"I know, father. But this one...has potential. Can't you see? Or are you blinded yet again by your stupendous amount of--" the boy looked at Fenris, and he realized, he was not a boy. A young man. Perhaps twenty or younger. No. Seventeen at most. He was just oddly short with a well handled haircut, pulled back in a fine pony tail. Him and his father and a small amount of growing facial hair on their lips, much like Fenris' own.

"Dorian, please reconsider. This one looks disgust--"

"Disgusting? They all do, Father! They're slaves! Mistreated mostly by these...mongrels of men." Fenris liked this boy already. 'Dorian', the name Fenris heard him be called, combed back his hair with his fingers and let out a long drawn-out sigh, "It is my gift. Correct? For my birthday?" He pulled out his pony tail to let short wisps of hair fall onto the back of his neck. Resembling a mane- wait, that doesn't matter. Fenris caught his mind drifting, looking past that to remember the real surprise here.

Fenris was a gift! A birthday gift! More a chance for him to be sold to this boy.

Fenris had a small appreciation for the boys attitude and aesthetic looks, glancing back as the line shuffled slightly forward. Another slave had been sold and his turn was soon. Though, not before a few others. He grew anxious, wondering if anyone else had their eyes on him.

"Elf. Your name." The father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, not noticing Fenris' face light up.

"Fenris." He replied immediately, straightening his back a bit more, despite the awkward squatting position. He had to look good for them. The father just shrugged. 

"Little wolf? Ah, let me see your hand." The son said, and Fenris complied, holding out his hands for him to see for whatever reason. The son looked them over, turning them around in his own hand and tracing the callouses with his fingers, making sure his father saw. 

"A hard worker." The father noted, sounding as if he was suggesting to buy him. A good sign.

"Of course. The poor thing..." The son dropped his hands and Fenris let them fall in front of him again. "I want this one."

"Ah. But he's the runt of the litter, Dorian." The Magister gestured towards the rest of the lot, where a lot of stronger elves raised their heads proudly, in hopes of being considered. "Isn't there another one that peaks your interests?"

"No. I want this one." Dorian repeated, only to get a displeased sigh from his father. "I've made my decision. A rather quick one, but a decision nonetheless. You should appreciate my quick decision-making skills, father. Otherwise, we would have to spend a longer amount of time in this pit that stinks of sweaty magisters." They were pampered, Fenris grinned. A rich family always had promise. 

"And its skills?" Halward cued, eyes flickering back towards Fenris, who's smile remained.

"Trained as a warrior. A bodyguard, ser."

A moment of silence in consideration. "It doesn't look too impressive. Perhaps it won't be sold for too much..." The father huffed, looking back at his son, Fenris could hear him mutter something about mistakes and birthdays, "Well! Go on! Into the crowd! Get a spot up front so we can purchase it and go home!"

Fenris couldn't be happier watching them walk away. And all he had to say was his name and main skill.

One by one, the number of most-wanted slaves were sold and gone, the ones before Fenris in the queue, and Fenris stood up next, shackles and ropes removed by a guard dressed in extravagant metals. He rubbed his wrists, looking for the father and son again in the crowd. He could barely hear what the auctioneer was shouting; his heart beating loudly in his ears, trying to focus. 

"Fifteen-hundred gold-!" He could hear the familiar voice of the father say, but he couldn't see him. There were no other bidders; it would've hurt Fenris' self esteem if it hadn't already been shattered years ago. Fifteen-hundred gold was nothing, he knew. Pocket change to these rich magisters. It seemed Dorian and his father had gotten him at a rather cheap price. 

"Sold!" 

The next thing he knew, he was being shoved off stage to the side table, ready to be exchanged. He stayed quiet, head low and respectful, wild, white bangs covering his eyes. 

"Fifteen-hundred gold for this one, correct?" 

The magister only nodded, counting out the price and paying what he owed, signing his name on a few small documents and taking the leash around Fenris' neck.

Oh. He forgot about the leash. It felt a part of of his own body at times, and he would forget it ws even there.

"Come now, Fenrir." The father said with a sharp tug.

"Father! His name is Fenris!" Dorian hissed at him. The magister only groaned, as the young man looked back at his new present.

"It is a slave. Does its name really matter?"

"Of course!" Dorian scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning back to the elf, "Excuse my father, Fenris. He is a bit of an arse."

Fenris didn't respond to Dorians comment, only giving him a stare. Dorian seemed to wait for a reply, but when he didn't get one, he focused back on the stone path they walked along. Fenris knew it was his place to stay silent, not to speak out of turn to rude comments he had no say in.

"Does the leash hurt you, Fenris?" Dorian asked, glancing over his shoulder again to meet Fenris' eyes for a mere second. Bright green, like a forest; Dorian's grayish-blue, though there was a sign of gold. A sort of charm.

"Dorian! What did I just say!?"

"You said not to call 'it' by name. As far as I can see, there is no 'it'. Only a 'he,' and his name is Fenris."

There was a sigh from his father, "Your tongue and soft heart will get you in trouble, Dorian. Never forget."

"Or Maker have me!" The young man mocked his father playfully, "-Yes yes, I know the entire spiel!"

Fenris was unsure whether he was excited to be with this family or not. It was hard to tell if he had gotten lucky with this family or if he had landed himself in a deeper pit than when he was with Danarius; as if that was possible. He decided not to dwell on the possibilities and took the chance at life with a smile, hidden behind the stone features of his face.

They walked to a carriage, drawn by two white horses, decorated in useless gold adornments, Fenris saw. Tevinter text on the door read 'House Pavus,' a name Fenris recognized immediately as the family name of Mages Danarius never got along with. Halward was one of the many names he remembered always spoken with venom from Danarius' mouth. Why he hated them so much, Fenris didn't know, nor cared to know. But now, seeing the circumstances, the reason made him the slightest bit curious. Another reason to stick around with this new master of his.

He was led inside in the carriage at last, taking a seat and staring at his wrists, red and raw from the rusty metal cuffs. Damn slavers, always so rough with their goods. He looked back up to meet Dorians eyes, which had been looking at the same problem.

"Ah, let me-" Dorian held out his hands to let a soft green light glow from beneath, and Fenris quickly withdrew his hands.

Magic. He should've figured the Magisters son was a filthy Mage.

The two Tevinters stared at him with looks of confusion. "It's healing magic, slave." Halward sneered, giving a glare at his son, "You picked a rotten elf! It pulls away from you!"

"Give him time, Father!" Dorian insisted, holding out his hands again, magic-free, inviting Fenris to give him his again for another chance. "I won't hurt you. I promise. This will help you, Fenris."

Fenris was hesitant, but he didn't want to get anymore disapproval from Halward. Despite what this young man could do, it would never amount to all Danarius had scarred him with. The elf was going to have to learn to trust his new master in handling him some time in the future anyway. It was best to get his first impressions out of the way rather than manning more mistakes like pulling away when his master instructed him not to. He held out his limp hands to him again, cautious, watching the young mage focus on a restoration spell, feeling the pain ease away bit by bit. Seeing his wounds close up before his eyes was a good reminder as to why magic couldn't and shouldn't be entirely hated, though, Fenris had his reasons. It was marvelous to watch, only remembering seeing Danarius use his own magic to bring items out of his reach closer to him, his slaves included.

He pulled them back again once Dorian was done, inspecting his wrists in silence. No more raw, red skin; healed now, with no scarring. Impressive. Danarius had never healed his injuries, only either worsening or inflicting them to begin with. The sensation of being healed and healthy was foreign to him, bowing his head in respects to his new master, uttering a thanks.

They stay in silence on the way back, Halward writing a letter in his time, or trying to. (The bumpy stone roads made it hard.) Up a hill and a winding green path, they made it to their mansion, large and beautiful with a large green landscape in the front. The carriage pulled uptown the front gate and the horses stopped, snorting loudly. They made it finally. Fenris was let out of the carriage after his master and his father, being gently led by his leash by Dorian instead of his dad. He didn't mind the leash at this point, seeing how the young Mage was careful with him, eventually removing it once they settled inside over a cup of hot tea.

"This is our home. We live here." Dorian smiled, squinting at a Fenris with a hint of confusion, "Do you speak more than just your name?"

"Yes ser."

"Oh!" Dorian grinned at him, "I didn't get the chance to tell you that your voice is very unique. Very soothing and sultry...." He rambled off about songs and birds, and generally different ranges of voices, eventually clearing his throat and returning to the subject at hands "Come along. I will show you around while father busies himself with work."

He was about to take off when Halward called out to him.

"Take care of your pet, Dorian. Feed it, bathe it, and teach it the rules."

"Him." Dorian insisted with a roll of his eyes and he slipped through the wooden entry way with his new elf, carrying his own tea, rather than having Fenris do it, which impressed the elf a bit further. Dorian wasn't a bad person at all, it seemed.

\---

The tour was tedious, but doable. Such a large Tevinter mansion, Fenris couldn't admit he was surprised. Danarius' old home was large, confusing at times, but nothing like this. His old master's home reeked of famine and death from his absurd slaves. The stench of magically inflicted burns and blood seemingly to always linger. But this mansion, House Pavus, was not like that. No. It smelt of lavender and fruits. Something much more pleasant and just overall very hospitable. Dark, cold chambers to warm, bright halls. The elf didn't mind the change one bit.

Though, Dorians excessive talking while taking his new slave exploring around the mansion was a bit annoying, despite the slave's attempts of drowning him out. 

"Here are the bathing chambers...Or at least the ones we use. Yours will be downstairs. You will be sharing with Garrik and Misha."

They Must be the other slaves Halward owns.

The bathroom was nice, though. Sink, clawed-tub, large vanity; all lined in golds. The tiles beneath his feet ran cool, made of obsidian, glistening in the candlelight. Tevinter style, or maybe just Dorians? It was hard to tell. Surely this room must've been customized for him.

"The beds..."

The Mage didn't show him all the rooms, mainly his own, but did point where the rooms where. He made sure Fenris was aware where his father and mother slept, as well as a few others. 

Dorians room was messier than one would expect, compared to his bathroom, at least, but not by too much. Art hung from the walls like the halls did, but more...personal? Snakes and peacocks. Of course. Pavus. What an easy connection.

He showed him a few rooms considered to be offices and studies, leads active than the library, Dorian says. He tells Fenris that they collect dust often and that he shouldn't worry about cleaning them immediately when he does his rounds. In the end, he basically told him not to worry about cleaning them at all.

Fenris was led down a flight of stairs into a larger vestibule, being led somewhere else. "The kitchen."

Simple enough. There were tables and ovens, fires burning. There was a storage room, cold boxes, and various meat and vegetables hanging from framework above the tables. A various sets of tools and large-basin sinks in the corner. He could see the dining hall through a set of double doors, that swung when entered through. Statues circled the dining hall, illuminated by a fire. A very homey feeling.

"The library!" Through the dining hall and pass the main entry and foyer was Dorian's favorite place, as he said as he ranted on about the house. Very large, but unuseful to the elf, maybe other than a quiet place to relax. He had no desire to be in a library to try to read, though, he could definitely see himself trying to clean the seemingly infinite amount of shelves and books. A bottle of wine and a plate of cheese could be seen left out on a desk.

Lastly, Dorian brought him down lesser-decorated halls, winding a bit until they reached their final destination as Dorian would chime, "And the slave quarters!" The Mage chimed. Dorian was quite an interesting young man, for a mage, of course. 

He instructed him about his bed and roommates, the slaves he mentioned before, making sure Fenris was comfortable before leading him back to the library for a break.

The young man grabbed a bottle of wine and poured the two a glass as he took a seat in his favorite chair, "I must know more about you, Fenris. You're fascinating. Stoic, in fact." He offered the glass to the elf, getting a stare of uncertainty back. "It's alright. My father won't mind. Drink. I am offering this to you."

Fenris bit his lip, taking the glass between his fingers and giving it a sniff, Dorian just chuckled.

"I dare not poison it, dear! I would not drink it myself if I had! you are my gift. Why would I ruin a gift to me with poisons? " Another giggle and he demonstrated with a drink for himself, raising a brow. "You are sillier than the others. But I understand your caution."

Fenris took a sip, accepting it as an order, letting memories flood him of Danarius never granting him the luxuries of wine and large meals. The taste of alcohol was something he missed and could easily accommodate to having more sometimes in the near future.

"You are to remain thin and beautiful." Danarius would tell him, only to have Fenris bite down his tongue to hide back any thoughts that came to mind at the time. Ridiculous, Danarius was. Disgusting too. He loathed that man. 

"Fenris, I asked you a question." Chimed in Dorian. Had he been talking? Fenris was lost in his thoughts, watching the red wine swirl under his movements.

"Ser?" 

Dorian sighed, shifting in his seat. "I asked who your previous owner was. Or is my father your first?"

It was almost as if he had read his mind. Fenris just stood stiff in front of him for a second, frowning before he answered,"Master Danarius is my previous owner." 

"That--Demon of a man?!" Spat Dorian in utter shock, "And here I thought my father was a cruel one! I've heard horror stories that sound much like nightmares of those who dare visit Magister Danarius. How can he still call himself that?" The Mage shook his head, taking another drink to distract himself from further ranting, "How did you survive? Did you escape? Tell me, elf."

Dorian sure did have a lot of questions. Fenris didn't mind. No one ever asked about how he felt or wanted to know of his life other than the fact that he was property to be used.

"He sold me because I misbehaved." Fenris' voice cracked, but he didn't make it too obvious. Dorian, being as perceptive as he is, noticed of course. "I deserved to be..."

"No no no. That man is...notorious for his treatment of slaves. I cannot believe..." Dorian was pinching the bridge of his nose, "This feels like a charity case of all things now. I might as well have saved your life!" Dorian scoffed, a bit of humor in his voice. "How does it feel to be set free from that life into one much more safer?"

Fenris didn't answer, staring at the floor, Dorian was still trying to grasp the idea. Once he realized Fenris wasn't going to answer, he cleared his throat for another subject. "Those markings." He said, "Not traditional tattoos, but lyrium, I presume?"

The elf nodded, feeling the markings heat up at the mention. Their usual irritation wasn't bothering him now. Talking to Dorian made him forget about their presence. Fenris liked that about him. He was distracting from the real pain he felt usually. Asking him questions made him feel important. Cared about, even. Did Dorian really care about his well-being? Even after knowing him for such a small amount of time? It was hard to make a judgement on his character so soon into their new relationship as a slave and owner, Fenris didn't want to get too cocky.

"Come here." He ordered, having the smaller young man stand at the side of his chair so his fingers could trace along the white lines. "I've heard how that cretin did tests on his slaves, making them stronger" he ranted on, "I wouldn't expect to buy the only known survivor of his experiments" he sighed then,"...How devious. Disgusting. Yet...all too beautiful. Marvelous." He mused, "They suit you, yet, I can not imagine the pain you felt when they were forced upon you."

"I volunteered for them." Fenris whispered with a nod, trying not to remember, "The pain is indescribable."

"Is?" Gasped Dorian, "As in currently as well? Do they hurt you now?"

"Yes ser. Always."

Dorian frowned, taking his fingers off his skin, "Excuse me then. For irritating them further." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of a way to help him, "I will speak to father about having them removed. If it is possible."

Fenris' frown returned, "The lyrium nearly killed me when it was forced into me. I would rather not experience it again or you will have a dead slave." Fenris' ears twitched, stepping further away from him. 

"Ah, but restoration magic is one I am training in. As well as several others while in the circle." Insisted Dorian, imagining a process to remove the markings, "We could numb your entire body during the process. Painless. Though, I can imagine some scarring..."

Fenris shook his head, letting a snarl rise from his throat in defense. He didn't mean anything by it, it was instinct, "No magic."

"Are you ordering me?" Dorian hissed playfully, and Fenris straightened back up, staring at him dully. He could feel a lump in his throat, tending up, expecting a slap or some kind of punishment.

"No ser, I was merely--" he stammered or quickly, trying to find the correct words.

"Dismissed, Fenris." Dorian said simply, little emotion in his voice, taking the glass of wine from the elf and pouring what he didn't drink into his own. "I'm sure you remember where your quarters are? I shall have bedding and clothes sent to your room at once."

Fenris bowed his head, mentally scolding himself, and turning to leave, swiftly walking to the door.

"I don't want you speaking out of turn again." Dorian said, making him freeze, "You are free from Danarius' grasp, but still a slave." Dorians initial tone when he spoke caused Fenris' hairs to stand on end, when his voice turned a bit lighter, "I only warn you for your own well-being. My father would have your tongue removed if you spoke against him one too many times."

Fenris nodded, "Yes ser. Thank you, ser."


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger-mention warning. Suicide and rape mention. I may go back on this chapter and extend it a bit, embellishing some of the sentences, all that jazz.

Nightmares attacked Fenris late that night as he slept. Visions of Danarius using and abusing him. It was nights like these where his master would let him sleep with him, fucking him first, of course, so Fenris could pass out from the pain and actually get a few hours of sleep. He would be pet, hands roaming around his body and hair, being whispered to until he fell into a restful bliss in Danarius' bed. Fenris needed that now. He needed Danarius' touch, and that fact made him roll in his sleep, kicking at the sheets. He needed his abuse. He needed Danarius. He needed- 

The elf jolted awake in cold sweat, wiping the sweat off his brow. He looked around the room initially, seeing the other cots of his roommates, seeing them sound asleep still. Good thing he didn't wake them up during his nightmares. Crawling out of his small bed, Fenris began to wander the room curiously until he grew tired again. Something he knew to do when he woke up alone. A common practice he had learned to do. He could see other elves' sleeping faces be lit up by the dim flames of a dying fire that kept their room slightly warm, though, still colder than wanted.

But his usual walking around wasn't helping him fall asleep as it usually did. It must be because he is in a new place and hasn't fully adjusted to it quite yet. Or maybe because his body was still used to getting only a very small amount of time to sleep. Sleeping for a full night was a luxury Fenris had yet to experience; he's have to adjust to that eventually now that he was in a better home. Fenris slipped through the chambers door, feet padding across the cool stone as he explored the halls instead. A good way to spend time until he grew tired again. The further he walked, the halls became more decorated again, a sign he was leaving the slave winged the mansion, seeing doors lead to kitchens, dining halls and studies. He passed the library, seeing a flickering light shining through, poking his head it to see who could possibly be up at this hour.

It was Dorian, reading by a candle light. He should've expected it, remembering the Mage tell him how much time he spent reading. It would explain how the young Mage knew such a vast vocabulary. Maker only knew what time it was. He looked at peace, in silence, flipping through the pages of an old book bound in a red leather. Fenris decided to slip past, not wanting to be discovered. They wouldn't understand the nightmares that haunted him so frequently, nor did he want to bother his new Master with that information. It was only a matter of time before Dorian caught Fenris screaming in his sleep, which he did at times, so it was best to hold his secret ff for as long as possible.

Fenris found his way into a bathing chamber, decorated, of course, with soaps and towels and stools, a stone tub sitting in the center. A good opportunity, he thought, wondering in the back of his mind if the slaves were allowed the luxury of being clean. The room wasn't far from his own sleeping quarters, surely it must've been added just for them to use. Dorian didn't really show him what bathrooms were specified for each party to use; the rich and the slaves. He took it as a golden opportunity to get clean.

He slipped out of his robe gifted to him, setting it aside neatly as he settled in the tub nude, turning a knob to get cold water, then hot. A furnace room, he thought, must've been nearby. The tub filled slowly, and he eased back, watching steam rise. He was smiling, something he rarely felt as he let the sensation of cleaning himself take him over. He scrubbed the dirt and grime off of him, dunking his head under the water and watching the bath change colors beneath him. His white hair, an actual shade of pure white and not gray.

He splashed in the water, turning as he let his arm mindlessly float, head snapping the second he heard the door crack and someone fell through.

"Shit-!"

Dorian fell, quick to crawl to his feet and hide behind the door again, "Sorry sorry! I didn't mean to intrude! I just heard the water running and came to turn it off-- I didn't know someone was in here!"

There was a hint of lying in his voice that Fenris could hear, but he saw past it. "Excuse me, Master Pavus-- I didn't mean to--"

"Oh! Fenris! I didn't know that was you!" Another lie, it felt, "Pardon me! Had you not bathed earlier today?"

"No ser I haven't but I--"

"No no! Don't excuse yourself! Bathing is a requirement here! Take your time. Use the soaps--" he was still hidden behind the door, Fenris watched for any signs of movement. "I will be going to bed. Sorry again-"

Fenris just nodded, "Yes ser." And the door closed again. But the slave didn't feel like wasting any more time in there if he was not allowed, Dorian didn't specify, nor did Fenris ask. He slipped out, grateful for the rinse as he pulled the plug and searched for a towel. Quickly re-robing himself and drying his feet before he waded back into his bed, hearing a door down the hall close with his.

\- - - 

"A new one? It looks frail. Are you feeding it?"

"I just got it a few days ago for my son's birthday." Halward told his guests, all their eyes on Fenris, "Its previous owner was Danarius."

"How atrocious!"

Fenris stood silently off to the side of the table, a jug of wine in his hands. He was set to serve a small dinner meeting with a few family-friends of House Pavus as a part of his training. So far, he had no slip-ups, used to this kind of serving. Though, he could do without the handful of eyes staring at him.

"It sure is a pretty one."

A comment he had heard already more than once during this dinner, making him the elf's skin crawl.

"And for Dorian? He is your only son, correct? Does he like it?"

"A fine age for a man's first slave, I may add. Maybe he will buy another as he ages with his own child on the way."

Dorian was sitting in the chair by his father, finger swiping the glass of wine before him, he seemed set on leaving the dinner just as much as Fenris had wanted to. To be talked about as if he wasn't there was something the two seemed to share in common.

"Those lyrium markings! Danarius trained it to fight, did he not?"

"He did. Right, Fenris?" Halward glanced back over to the elf, waiting for him to answe.

"Yes ser."

The men around the table clapped their hands for the well-trained elf. "Outstanding! Though, it is a small one. Young too."

"Can it even carry a weapon?"

Halwards hands motioned for Fenris to answer for them, "Yes ser, I can. I have been guided by the best. My previous Master just had rationed my meals before he sold me again. Thus, my smaller frame."

"How very Danarius." A man sneered, "All his elves are small and young!"

"You do know why, right? He uses them for his personal reasons. He loves tight elves."

Dorians eyes met Fenris' at the mention, as Halward cleared his throat to interrupt the current topic.

"This elf will not be used as a sex puppet here. Dorian knows his limits." Halward made sure his guests were aware.

"Of course, Father." Dorian chimed in politely, "I would rather be caught nude tied to a tree than being seen treating my slave even half of what Danarius does."

"You're raising a smart boy!" One of the men laughed, and Halward quickly agreed, asking Fenris to fill his glass, which he quickly complied.

"Smart? Hardly. I would like to be seen as a respectable man. And dare I say it, would not want to have any kind of involvement with a male." Dorian snickered.

"Yes. Which reminds me; I have plans for Dorian to meet a few women of other Houses in Tevinter some time in the summer. Hopefully he will find one he likes and marry so I can have my grandchildren."

"Of course, father! I would hate to keep you waiting!"

The group laughed again as Fenris was dismissed to clean the mess they had left behind as they carried their conversation elsewhere. That didn't mean that the elf could no longer hear them.

"In all seriousness though, Ser Halward. How much?"

"Excuse me?" Dorian answered for his father, "My elf is not for sale."

"No no. For a night. I mean."

Fenris dropped a glass, hearing it shatter at the words. He felt his skin burn beneath the markings, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to bend over and pick up the pieces. 

"Fasta vass! No! He is no longer doing that business if he ever did! He works in a real home now."

"Dorian, language. Our guest was just curious is all-"

"Take the curiosity elsewhere! He will not being blowing some dirty Magister in some back alleyway!"

"Dorian Pavus!" His father shouted back for him to stop.

Fenris, distracted, stepped on a shard of glass, finding it hard to acknowledge the pain when his owner was standing up for him. His heart pounded in his chest, a feeling like no other.

There was the loud clap of skin on skin, and Fenris caught a glimpse of Halward slapping his son across his cheek enough to throw him off balance, watching Dorian fall out of his chair.

"I told you to stop, and you didn't! To your quarters, and don't come out until I'm done attending to our guests you so rudely insulted!"

Dorian yelled a tevene insult at him to allow him to have the last of the argument, turning to Fenris' direction next, causing the elf to quickly finish his task, dragging along to throw the pieces of glass in the waste bin. He returned to face the sink and begin his duties again, full view of Dorian rubbing the side of his face and using a glowing green light on his skin with a sigh. Restoration magic. Probably dulling the pain, Fenris thought, the strike on him from his father sounded painful.

"I apologize if you heard any of that." Dorian said out of silence, voice hushed. "That man was saying disgusting things about you- I couldn't."

Fenris frowned, but didn't answer, as his place to, washing his hands in the sink and picking up a dirty platter. He could hear a small gasp from the Mage over the running water.

"You're hurt! Bleeding all over fathers imported Antivian tiles!" Fenris looked down to see the trail of dark red, forgetting about the cut on his foot. Curse him for denying shoes. They never felt right. The elf felt Dorians hands on his shoulders next, "Come with me. There's a washroom nearby."

Fenris dropped the platter, carefully this time into the stilling water and shut off the flow, drying his hands on a towel and followed his master down a hall from a back door of the kitchen. They slipped behind another set of doors and the Altus sat him down in a wooden chair, dusty, but Fenris didn't mind.

"I feel you are much safer in here while those men remain here for now." Dorian sighed, letting a rag float through the air with a simple spell and wetting it with another. He lifted the elf's foot into his lap, not using his magic, and dabbed the wound carefully. "I assume this was the glass I heard shatter."

Fenris nodded with a slump of his shoulders, feeling ashamed he broke his second glass out of his entire stay of being there. It hadn't even been a full week. Dorian just chuckled, "It's fine, Fenris, we have thousands."

Fenris stayed silent still, watching him carefully.

"You can speak, you know. I won't bite."

"Yes ser."

"Okay, how about I start with a conversation. Answer me this, Fenris, since it's relevant. Did Danarius ever use you for those things? Sex? Pleasure?" Dorian squinted, "Or not? Do you even know what those things are-?"

"Yes ser."

"To which was that an answer?"

"Both."

"Oh, I see." Dorian's eyes fell back onto his wound, cleaned now, but still bleeding. He used the same healing magic he did on his cheek previously. "What all did he do?"

"It's not my place to say, ser."

"Of course it is. I'm a curious young man and would like to know what kind of mistreatment my slave had to endure to get here."

The elf gave a testing glare, pulling his foot back once it felt healed, "I endured a lot."

"Details, Fenris."

The slave bit his lip, trying to form a mental list of all he did to him before he spoke. "The sex or in general?"

"All of it. I want to spend our time learning more about you. I need to know what to avoid when speaking to you in the future." He paused, "As well as burn time here rather than listen to that man does what dirty fantasies he has of young elves."

Fenris couldn't help but agree, taking a deep breath.

"When Danarius bought me, I was a boy, or so I was told. I was physically different before. Dark hair, lighter skin..." Fenris tries to remember seeing reflections of himself at a younger age, failing, "He trained me-- no, not himself, other warriors trained me. Three of them. Ex-templars. One Warden."

Dorian leaned back in his chair, relaxing, knowing he was going to be there for a while, nodding along as his slave spoke; finding his voice soothing to listen to.

"When his other slaves failed trials he had planned for us, dying...he chose me to test his lyrium infusion on. Or no...I volunteered."

"Trials? What trials?" Dorian frowned, "And why would you volunteer for such treatment?"

"I am only telling from what I've been told, repeated by my previous master as child's tales in bed. I do not know the details, but I was told I killed people under his demand."

"Oh..."

"As for why I offered myself...He was looking for the strongest of us. I was obviously the one. I bargained for my families freedom in place of my own. Others bargained for more." Fenris swallowed back a snarl, "Then, the experiments. He took my blood, surveyed me in a cage, kept me his hostage more so than ever. When it came down to it, he pressed a thick needle to my skin and added this curse into my flesh."

Dorian's eyebrows knitted together, intrigued by the process. "A thick needle?"

"Not like a sewing needle. A cone. A blade, almost, but sharper and thicker. My skin split where the lyrium was forced into. Scarred. Took months to heal."

"And the pain?"

"Unbearable. I almost died, remember? My hair, changing to how it is now from the mere shock of it all. It hasn't returned since." Dorian could see the elf clench his fist, squeezing it in pure anger at just remembering. "I did more trials after that." He continued, "I can remember everything after I survived his experiment. I was...more subject to suggestion. It hurt so much...I have tried to take a blade to my own throat several times, only to have that monster bring me back to life over and over again..."

"Fenris I--"

"He would bleed me out on purpose- unconscious...using my body for his own purposes-"

"--Fenris--"

"I could only wake up with unimaginable pain, covered in blood and--"

"Fenris!!"

The elf froze, not hearing Dorian. The Mage was panting, flustered it seemed. Fenris only bit down on his tongue, cursing himself for letting his anger get the best of him.

"I've heard enough." Dorian spat, "I don't need to know how you tried to take your own life-- I--" Dorian fell silent, "...I will save it for another time, I suppose. Go on, elf, to your duties. I've distracted you enough."

Fenris shot up, giving a bow, "Sorry ser, it won't happen again." Going straight for the door without as much of a second glance back before disappearing back into the kitchen to finish his job.


	3. 3

"He was raped, father! Countless times! And you still excuse that man from dinner?!"

"Dorian! It was not your place to speak out--" 

"He was saying disgusting things about my slave! I was not going to allow him to continue! What if Fenris had heard?" Dorian countered in the middle of his sentence. The way his father spoke-- talked of Fenris like he was some toy. It was disgusting. He was excusing the man at dinner with little to no consideration for his son or the new slave, and Dorian couldn't have that. 

"And what of it? Let the elf hear!" His father shouted rather loudly, a look in his eye of nothing but carelessness. "That slave should be grateful I don't sell it off to that man! I could make more money selling than buying it to begin with!"

"How could you say that about a life? You have no idea what he's been through!" Dorian's voice was cracking, bristling with anger.

"It's a slave. Its life is irrelevant. Its job is to serve and take what it can get. That's it."

"But he is a person!" The son would continue, "Not just some tool you can toss around and use! Not like that man was intending to do to him! He has already had enough of that with his old master!"

"It is if its owner wishes it to! Why must you argue with everything, Dorian?"

"Because your general attitude towards my pet is absolutely disgusting!"

A pet, huh? It was nice to know Dorian at least considered his life equal to a mongrel mabari, being more than Danarius ever considered him. Fenris should've taken it as an insult, but to be compared to a dog was a blessing.

But the argument was taxing, going on for at least half an hour now, and Fenris could hear it all, through the echoing stone walls of his room all the way from the library Dorian liked to spend his time in. He shifted in his blankets, trying to block the argument out. He hates being talked about, never hearing what it was like to be defended before. And it was the only thing keeping him from completely shutting out the conversation.

As far as it had seemed, Dorian genuinely cared about him, something Fenris was never past admitting he craved. To be protected by something. A force driven by security only made him want to please his master more. He was Dorian's, and as long as the boy continued to stand up for him or not, he was forever his. 

"I want you in your circle class in the morning on time. To bed. No more arguments."

"But-"

"Dorian! What did I just say?"

There was silence, the brass vents relaxing from the vibrations of their conversation again. Fenris wondered if MIsha and Garrik were awake to hear this all too. Wondering if this was the first argument they've eavesdropped on. Probably not.

"Yes father..." Dorian gave in, voice softening, much to Fenris' surprise. The elf could hear the loud banging of a heavy door closing. Footsteps passing his quarters and up a set of stairs. Dorian to his room. Fenris just released his tightened grip from his sheets, relaxing again. The elf sighed sadly, part of him wishing his master wouldn't extend himself so much for his sake. He was a slave. Not an equal. He didn't deserve the protection and respect Dorian gave him. He felt sick, physically, turning anxiously on his lumpy mattress and fell asleep again.

_ _ _

"Come here, Fenris."

The slave was cleaning shelves in the library, conveniently while his master sat and read his studies. Dorian was back from his classes already, home and quiet like his father wanted of him. He nodded and set down his duster, approaching the young man. "Yes ser?"

"Could you grab the book titled, 'An Apprentice from Antiva' from that table over there?" He pointed, having Fenris look to where he directed.

"Ser, I--"

"Please, Fenris. My legs have fallen asleep, so to speak. I would appreciate it. Thank you." Dorian didn't really give him much of a choice now, and the elf bowed.

There was a lump in his throat as Fenris approached the table where Dorian had instructed, looking upon the pile of books, some sprawled out. What was the book title again? An Apprentice in Antiva? That was four words, right? Fenris scanned the books for any with four characters on the cover. It was the only way he could tell, knowing well that he had never learned to read. But there were only three characters per book that he could see, hearing his master give an impatient huff from behind him. Fenris piled up the books into his arms and carried them over, hearing a slight gasp of realization.

"So I was right!" Dorian said triumphantly, "You cannot read."

Fenris tensed up, a flicker of light flashed from underneath his skin. Dorian was right. He couldn't. He was never taught nor did Danarius ever want to teach him. A minor disability for a slave with much more potential. 

"Yes ser." He finally answered his master, head lowered out of respect. Fenris could only hope Dorian wasn't too displeased with this news. He would hate to upset him after spending so long getting his approval.

"Yet, you speak common and Tevene as anyone else in the Imperium. Two languages and not a single word you recognize?" 

"No ser."

Was Dorian considering teaching him? Fenris could feel a small smile peak from the corner of his lips, hidden away of course behind white hair. It would mean so much to him if his Master spent the time to teach him such a required skill. It would make him more valuable to him and the family, and even for resale if anything were to go wrong in the future. Fenris' mind buzzed with all the potential from the idea of learning how to finally read at such an old age. 

"I see..." Dorian plucked the correct book from the pile Fenris selected, "Thank you, Fenris, that is all."

Fenris relaxed a bit as he was dismissed, replacing the books where he found them and grabbing his duster instead. Dorian cracked open the new book and began reading, saying no more. Of course. Why did Fenris feel so surprised? 

Dorian wasn't going to teach him to read. That sliver of hope left him, thinking that Dorian would actually go as far as teaching a slave, and he returned to his duties in silence.

 

\---

"Did you hear? Master Dorian was caught drinking in the slums again." An elf snickered to the one sharing the news quietly behind a shelf of bread, sitting in the kitchen. Fenris could easily overhear. 

"Is he okay?"

"We can only think so. His father had soldiers go down to fetch him."

"How did you hear?" The voice belonged to Misha, Fenris noticed, ears flickering a bit.

"My dear, Misha, I hear all. Master Halward tells me everything. Not directly, but I do hear." And that was Garrik. He could easily recognize the tranquil's tone and voice.

Garrik. A younger slave than Fenris was gossiping, something he did quite often to pass the time. The other elf was tranquil, and Fenris always felt uneasy around him, avoiding contact if he could. But he was Halward's favored slave, knowing he didn't argue ever, being due to his current state. His hair was short, and blue ink spread from his lip, much like Fenris', and another wrapping around his dull eyes.

Misha was the other one. A little older than Fenris. At this point he realized that he really hadn't thought much of them until now. Misha was young and spunky, red hair always tied in a braid. Her and Garrik seemed to be the only two slaves that made a friendship under their status as slaves. All three of them shared their small room, in separate beds, of course. Fenris always saw her working when she could, despite her disability of missing an eye, stealing food when she got the chance, and sneaking it to the less fortunate at night.

Fenris tried to ignore their daily banter, sweeping up the floors along the kitchen and halls, busying himself, though, he knew they weren't the dirtiest. If what Garrik said was true, then he would want to avoid Dorian and his father for the day--

"Fenris! Do you mind coming here?"

It was Halward. So much for that plan. 

The elf felt Garrik and Misha's stares on his back as he left the kitchen to find the source of Halwalds call, finding him and a shamed Dorian standing in an office of sorts.

"Come. Sit."

Fenris looked at him, eyes big and curious, but did as he was told, noticing Dorian not making a move to even look at him. He was stiff, tense, and Fenris could only imagine what kind of trouble he was in. The slaves' rumors must've been true.

"Did you help Dorian to the slums last night as he said?" Halward asked, eyes set on Fenris. 

Fenris swallowed, looking back at Dorian for an answer. He didn't understand the question, tilting his head at Halward. Help Dorian...? No, Fenris was long in bed asleep before Dorian ever did, he knew. 

Did...his master make a lie to cover himself?

"Did you, Fenris? I asked a question." Chimed Halward again, impatience lingering in his voice. "Dorian says you fetched him keys and led him safely down from the mansion."

Dorian still didn't move, ashamed, shoulders slumped. It was all a lie, Fenris knew, but there was no way he could let his master take the entire blow of getting drunk and lying about his escape. It was not fair. Not to Fenris, of course, but it was his job to protect his master no matter what.

"Yes ser. I did." Fenris lied, bowing his head, thinking of ways to make it sound more believable.. "I only did what I was told."

Dorian looked up then, eyes wide, tears streaking his face more obviously where his eyeliner had smeared as well. Surely, he expected his elf to tell the truth, it seemed.

"A shame." Halward sighed, shaking his head. "Ten lashes and you are to clean the bathing chambers. Two nights in a closet. That is your punishment, elf. Do you understand?"

Fenris nodded slowly, afraid of getting flogged again, but didn't argue. "Yes ser."

"Return to your duties. I will call you when I'm done discussing this unfortunate event with my son."

"Yes, Master Halward."

Fenris sulked off, feeling the loud crack of a slap in the air as he slipped through the door. Halward slapped his son again. 

"How dare you insult me and our family this way, boy!" Another slap, and Fenris hid in the kitchen, visibly shaking. Misha running by his side.

"I heard the entire thing, Fenris. You shouldn't cover for that rotten boy!"

"He's not rotten. He's kind." Fenris sucked in his bottom lip, "His father is the one who does not treat him well."

"He sold you out. He lied. I know because you were in bed all night."

"It does not matter to me. I would rather he lie and let me take the heavier punishment than him. It's my place as his slave."

Misha didn't say anything else, returning to Garrik's side and quickly picked up dirty dishes to wash, knowing Halward was to retrieve Fenris in a minute anyway.

Fenris leaned on a barrel, taking deep breaths. He should be afraid of a whip. It was just a whip. The kitchen doors opened and Halward brought Fenris back to reality with just a few words as he entered the kitchen.

"Fenris. Come now. It's time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shazam! I should really learn how to fill in with details, but eh. Slowly spacing out my chapters so I have some lean way to actually write more than what I just have. My laptops broken so I do all my writing on mobile ahhhhhahah rip me
> 
> Garrik's my OC, I don't know who the fuck Misha is I made her up, but I've had Garrik for a while now, I wanted to put him in somehow.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll put real chapter names in here eventually. ALSO THIS IS THE NON CON SECTION. It's the third part that is skipped to. I made it as little graphic as possible, very short purposely. TBH, this is really the only real non-con part in here, just because I'm not about that life, other than a few references to Fenris' past with Danarius obviously. Just know its's once you hit dinner straight to the end, so feel free to skip! <33

Shaking. Bloody. Made an example of.

Fenris pressed his chest to the closet wall, avoiding contact with anything on his back. It screamed in pain, Fenris' chest heaving still as he tried to get it under control. He was left in nothing but his small clothes during the public flogging to the other slaves, having to whip slash his ass and even his thighs at times. They all watched him, Dorian too, as Halward whipped at him in the courtyard, tied defenselessly to a post. Embarrassing, but nothing he hadn't experienced before. Slaves don't get to feel embarrassment. His lie to protect his master only leaving a sting on his skin now. It was worth it. Even if Dorian decided to throw him to the wolves; ignore his inability to read even -- he was his slave.

Fenris was shoved into the closet once it was all over, to give him time so he could calm down and adjust to his temporary living quarters before he returned to work. A miserable morning.

He adjusted his position again, feeling the sharp corners of a metal box prod at his knees, yelling again, biting into his arm so he could be quiet. Afraid. The closet was cluttered, dark, and cold. The only light seeped from the bottom of the door where the wood met stone tile, casting enough light for the elf to see his toes curl. With a single thought, his skin came to life, glowing dimly enough to illuminate the cramped space. Robes hung above him, aware that he was not to touch them, feeling the soft velvety brushing along his ears instead. When he finally quieted down, forcing down sobs as he swallowed, his door opened, and he sealed his lips shut, forcing the light from his skin to fade.

"Come now, Slave." Halward insisted, "Time to clean. Maybe now you've understood the consequences for your actions." There was hardly any cool-down time for him. It couldn't have been more than an hour in the closet after his beating. No matter how much he respected Dorian, his father was another case. He couldn't bring himself to like him. Halward had said too many things against Fenris. He had no obedience owned to him, but respected him for Dorians sake. Otherwise, he would spit in his face. A public flogging? Ridiculous. He thought Halward was above that type of man. A Danarius-type man. Apparently not.

Fenris fell out of his temporary space, crawling a bit from the pain on his back along the floor, whimpering as he forced himself up and leaned against the wall to walk to the bathing chambers where he was ordered. Halward left him a bucket of water, soap, and a heavy sponge already set in the bathroom. Fenris dropped to his knees again once Halward let him be to work, not caring if his knees rattled at the hard contact with the stone floor. It didn't matter now. He took the sponge and dipped it into the water and soap, soaking the sponge, then began to scrub the floors.

An hour passed, and he finished the floors and sinks, having them shine marvelously. It was only one bathroom, though, causing Fenris to shake again in fear of being punished for not being fast enough. It was getting harder to clean; Fenris was still weak from his punishment, his bleeding stopped now, but his arms ached when he worked. Of all things he expected from House Pavus, fearing punishment was not one of them. He thought he left that life behind with Danarius.

The door opened and Fenris immediately began working at the dirt-encrusted trim. But instead of walking through the threshold, the intruder stood there, staring in. The elf glanced back over his shoulders to see young Master Pavus staring at him, wiping his eyes. He looked so much different now that Dorian's makeup was washed away and his hair had run flat. His sunken shoulders took a lot away from his usually prideful posture. The person looking at him now was hard to believe it was his Master.

Neither of them said anything, just staring at each other for a minute until Dorian left again. Fenris felt his stomach drop. Did he do something wrong? Was he supposed to tell the truth? Was Dorian unhappy with his punishment? Whatever he had done, he had disappointed his master, and he hated it. He blinked slowly, watching the door swing closed behind him, taking a moment to himself before running his hands over the dirty surfaces again. Time to get back to work, then.

\--

"Come with me."

Fenris was woken up by his master, intruding into the closet where Fenris was forced to sleep. It was late at night. Fenris was sure he had gone to sleep at midnight, working hard all day through the pain, knowing that he absolutely had only been asleep for a mere two hours. Why so early, Dorian, he thought to himself. The groggy elf rubbed his eyes as a hand grabbed his wrist pulled him along, up, and the elf's pain suddenly rushed back into him again, groaning at the aches. A pain he had forgotten about in his slumber, thankfully.

"Shhh...my father will hear."

A shitty warning. Fenris couldn't help it, but he didn't say anything, biting back the pain and dragging his feet as Dorian led him up a flight of stairs to his room. A place Fenris hadn't visited before on a casual encounter, only for work. He was pulled through his door then, stumbling in and looking around.

Books and papers covered his walls and table, more so than usual, a work desk of his own made of heavy woods and gold ornaments. Clutter everywhere to be seen. Bottles, littered the floor as well; wines and ales. Fereldan beer too? A cheaper substance, Fenris knew. By the mages open window was a cushioned seat, where Fenris was told to sit.

Had Dorian been drinking? The answer was yes, he could smell it on his breath. Even from across the room. The way he walked...slurred his words. Fenris' ears fell at the realization that whatever had done to displease him previously in the day had forced him to hurt himself by drinking.

Dorian stepped around his messes and went directly to heal Fenris' wounds. Despite the elf's absolute hatred of magic, he let Dorian relieve his pains, pressing his face to the stone window pane as he felt his masters cold hands roam his back, and along the scars of lyrium in their pattern.

"I'm so sorry, Fenris..." He whispered, kissing the bend of his elfs shoulder, reacting a shudder from him. "I'm so sorry."

Fenris let him do what he wished, bowing his head in fear of being punished again, though, he knew Dorian would never hurt him like Danarius or Halward would. The affection was unsettling, but welcomed with a slight caution. He had almost forgotten he was hardly wearing anything. The stench of alcohol lingered on Dorian's breath, closer now, in his face just about.

"I was scared...hungover...very stupid." Another kiss, closer to his neck. He could feel the Tevinter's bare chest along the curve of his back now. When did he lose his shirt? "I did not know he would go to as far as hurting you as much as he did." Another kiss. Another. Fenris wanted to scream out, wanting to tell him to stop. He was uncomfortable, hating the sensation of his lips on his burning skin. The lyrium flared up, burning hot under Dorian's touch.

Fenris turned his head back at him, unsure of it all, letting his voice crack and expose his fear. "I am all right, Master. I..."

"You lied for me." Dorian interrupted, not noticing Fenris' apprehension, "A brave act. You defended me even though you knew I was lying through my teeth." A dry laugh and he kissed Fenris' cheek, seeing how it was now in reach. The mage's hands were on his thin neck now, giving a light squeeze to turn his head and pressed his lips to his slave's.

What was this game? Dorian explicitly stated earlier, at that one dinner, that he would never involve himself with another man as well as misuse his slave.

But Fenris let the Mage play with him, feeling Dorian part his lips, soft tongue pressed to Fenris' bottom lips. Fenris parted his own, noticing as Dorian pulled him closer against himself, repositioning so they were facing each other. He tastes like poison, making Fenris curl back his tongue. It was the taste of liquor, and vomit. Disgusting. But it was a strong confirmation that Dorian was drunk out of his mind. Nothing was meant behind this.

Dorian moaned against his mouth, hands curving behind his head and playing with the elf's hair, tilting his head and pressing Fenris' back to the window to gain more access. Dorian straddled him, hips grinding down on his slaves hungrily. Fenris only whimpered in protest, but Dorian shut him up with another forced kiss. The elf screwed his eyes shut, feeling a particular hardness against his thigh.

...Dorian.

His masters hands wandered from his neck to his chest, nipples, running along his dark skin, thumbs running in circles. Dorian had scooted back just a bit on his lap to cup his groin, giving a tight squeeze. It was now Fenris couldn't handle it anymore, wanting to throw up again. Fenris pulled away immediately, throwing Dorian off and standing quickly. His pains had subsided, thankfully. The lyrium was burning, glowing a bright blue all over, a rising panic in his chest. A ritual of affection Danarius always did before...

"The fear in your eyes, I--" Dorian stopped, gasping, trying to catch himself, shaking his head, "Fenris-"

"Don't touch me!" He screamed, eyes widening at the sound of his voice. He raised his voice at his master-- he knew--The slave dropped to his knees, tucking his head beneath him. "F-forgive me...forgive me, Master. I did not mean to." He couldn't stand now, knees weak, afraid to meet his master's eyes.

He had to do what his master wanted.

Fenris closed his eyes, shot up from the floor, and tugged down his small clothes, about to step out of them when Dorian stopped him.

"Fenris. Stop. You don't have to..." Dorian sighed, eyes falling to the floor in shame.

"I want to pleasure you, Mast--"

"Stop! Fenris!" He ordered, stumbling away to grab a robe of his own and throw it at him. "I didn't think I would...you're changing me and I can't say I'm proud of it."

The elf covered himself up, standing in place, shivering, ears twitching to listen.

"I did not mean to...have you think I was using you. I've had a bit too much to drink for the night. I would never hurt you that way I--"

Fenris tilted his head, muscles relaxing and glowing fading when he realized Dorian wasn't going to pursue him any further.

"Go, Fenris. I'm...sorry you..." He trailed off and hid his face. The sadness melting from his words as he forced out another order, "Just go, elf."

And he did. Fenris scrambled out of the room and back to his closet, hearing the sound of shattering glass as he closed the door behind him.

__

 

Dinner the next day was quiet. Fenris was healed but his back still ached slightly, not letting his uncomfort show as he served dinner to the Pavus', and their returning guests. Dinner was extravagant, for no reason, it seemed. More so than other times. It was odd, but Fenris served it all, quick on his feet to keep up with it all. Garrik and Misha had been working hard already in the kitchen with the other slaves, pumping out fresh, hot food by the minute, as long as it was requested, Fenris did his work.

He noticed Dorian stayed silent during dinner, only nodding when his father referenced him as they ate. It was unsettling to Fenris, as he knew how much Dorian loved the sound of his own voice. To see Dorian quiet was as if seeing a rare creature. His general behavior in the past day was unsettling all together, it felt as if the Mage had been avoiding Fenris ever since their encounter last night. Fenris didn't speak out of turn, as much as he was curious of Dorians profound silence. A guilty silence, it seems. Fenris poured him cup after cup of wine, noticing him get sloppier by the minute. The only mistake happened when Fenris dropped a fork, bending over to pick it up, and catching his Masters hungry stare. It caused his skin to tingle, trying his best to just look past it and continue to work.

The conversation was light and casual, something that wasn't too common for dinner, but Fenris appreciated the calmer atmosphere nonetheless. When dinner was over, Fenris, and the other slaves began gathering the messes up and taking it to the sinks to clean, and chatter among the servants quickly rose, nothing too important. He noticed Dorian didn't detour to the library as he often did after his meals, instead, he vanished up the stairs to the tower that was his room, without so much as a napkin.

The elf continued to work in the kitchen with the others for less than an hour, wandering the halls for anything to clean right after, waiting for a call from his master. But he never called for him. Fenris began to worry. A drunken Mage on his own? He tried not to think about it. For him to stumble into whatever mess he had previously...His master was able to take care of himself. He shouldn't think him as a fool, despite his childish mistakes. 

Trekking the halls, dusting what was dirty, Fenris found a way to spend his time, trying to avoid the troubles in the back of his mind. The hall suddenly grew colder, darker even, Fenris could feel the presence of someone behind him, when he looked, there was no one. A frown crossed his features and he looked back at the frame he was dusting, seeing a faint glow reflect off the paint from behind him.

There was a light, bright and blinding, a green tint, and Fenris buckled over onto his knees from a sharp pain. A whimper passed his lips, unsure why his body was doing this.

He was not horny. Any kind of sexual contact was prohibited without Danarius' presence. And self-pleasure was strictly off limits. As to why his body was no longer attached to his mind was beyond him. The touch himself as he was now was never even imagined. A list in his mind drove him for more, tongue out and panting.

He heard the door the Dorians room open, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the boy staring at him with the same hungry eyes he gave him at dinner. The Mage used a spell to drag him into his room without as much as lifting a finger, disregarding Fenris' cries. He was dragged along the tile, up the stairs, watching the door slam shut before his eyes.

Magic.

This was a spell.

The bastard, Fenris snarled. He was no better than Danarius after all. Dorian quickly approached him, using another spell to force Fenris to his knees, no one was around to hear him, looking back at the sealed door for any hope.

"I'm going to use you, Fenris. Do not make a sound." Dorian said; His voice was different, darker even. Fear rushed through Fenris' body, but he didn't act on it. No, instead he stayed put. This was common, to be used, especially by Danarius and his followers. He only bit back any cries and let Dorian do what he wanted.

Though, Fenris' eyes widened as his master stood before him, Dorian looked hostile and hungry, a glow in his eyes as he grabbed a fistful of Fenris' white hair. No no no--

The drunken Mage was driven mad by something, and Fenris could feel his aggressiveness in not only his actions, but his words This wasn't like him. Dorian said himself would never do this just the night before -- did he lie again?

As for what Dorian did to him next, Fenris forced his mind as far away as possible. This couldn't be real. The elf's stomach turned as he cried out for his master to stop-- but his words flew past him. Dorian was doing what he was supposed to do with a slave. Use him. His mouth specifically in this case.

Fenris felt tears form at the corners of his eyes, half from sadness and half from him choking as his master fucked his mouth ruthlessly. And he let him; throat relaxing and teeth withdrawn. He could hear Dorian moan from above him, a dark, demented sound. This was all happening so quickly- it was hard for Fenris to focus. The second his hand moved to push Dorian away, magic forced his hand back again behind him, feeling something snap in his wrists, screaming around Dorian's again. There was a sharper pull on his hair, feeling some be pulled out, and he forced himself to shut up before Dorian did more damage.

It was over soon after that, thankfully; the Mage finished quickly in his mouth. Fenris could only swallow all his seed before he pulled out. Feeling a sob break past his lips, Fenris wiped his eyes, feeling his stomach do circles, pressing his cheek against the cold wall to gain balance again. But it wasn't working.

He retched.

The elf emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor beside Dorian's feet. He was shaking, coughing, wiping his mouth feeling his master's dirty, cold hands at his throat.

"You like being used, whore?"

 _He is drunk,_ Fenris told himself.

"You're just a cock-slut slave just for me!"

_He's drunk, Fenris. Don't listen to him. He doesn't mean it._

"Fuck you!" Dorian spat at him, words slurred, when Fenris didn't dare speak back. Dorian was choking him, Fenris feeling faint as his thin fingers and colder rings press tightly against his flesh. Fenris fell to the floor once Dorian released him, gasping loudly, his lyrium flared up and shining brighly. He felt a kick to his ribs, and another closer to his stomach. "You did this to me!" He snarled at the elf again.

The last thing he felt was a kick to the side of head and face, and then it was black.

 


	5. 5

"Fenris. Wake up."

It was Halward. 

He wasn't on the floor anymore it seemed. He could taste what he thought was copper on his tongue. His own blood. It was warmer again than what it was before. Where was he?

"Fenris. Come on now, boy. Wake up."

The elf's vision was fuzzy, dark, seeing what he could only assume as Halward as only a large blur, and Fenris groaned at him, head rolling to the side. It was supposed to be a word, a phrase even, but unidentifiable by either him or Halward. His tongue was sour with the taste of vomit still lingering. It was hard to remember why...

There was another sharp draft of what felt like a breeze roll by. Cold, then heat, a soft warmth and glow. Only lasting for a minute as he drifted off again.

Then darkness.  
\---

He woke up again what only felt like hours later. The sun was still gone, dark in the room he was in, illuminated by candle light only. Fenris immediately cried out for help, feeling an aching pain all over his body. His throat was sore, and the memories of Dorian using him came flooding back. Then a voice filled the silent chamber. No, not a chamber, a room. A much nicer room than what he was used to. A guest room.

"He's awake!"

It was Dorian he heard, and the elf shot up in pure terror, remembering what had happened before, snarling when his masters face came into view.

"S-stay away from me!" Fenris screamed at him, swatting his hand, "Stay away!"

Dorian paused, freezing where he stood in front of Fenris' bed, looking away to avoid his eyes. There was pain in the mage's eyes. Dorian just backed up and stood to the side as Halward took his place, sitting in a chair by Fenris' bed. Dorian just retreated into the corner of the room, opening a drape over the window to let more light in as well as distract himself.

"A rotten slave, I told you." Halward sighed at his son, pressing his hand to the elf's forehead to check for a fever, "It still has fear."

"Everyone has fears, father, have you forgotten?" Dorian hissed, though, face soft as he looked into Fenris' eyes as he approached the bed again. "My poor slave is frightened beyond his mind...Look at him. The poor thing..." Dorian took a deep breath, "I don't want him to be broken, father. A broken slave is a useless one."

That _hurt._

"I know, son. I can try my best to fix it."

"Him."

"Him."

At least Dorian could respect that he was a living being. Hardly.

Fenris stared between them, wiping the tears he didn't feel pour from his eyes. What was happening? The last thing he remembered was getting abused by his master then...nothing? What happened then?

"You interacted with a demonic force, elf." Halward said, "I heard cries from my son's room and came as soon as I could. The lazy other servants stood outside listening." Halward looked at Dorian. "He was in the library while what happened did. You were locked in his room without his permission and..."

Halward began to ramble on about disrespect, Fenris could barely focus. A demonic force? What? Fenris still didn't comprehend what had happened.

"A demon, Fenris. You faced a demon." Dorian reiterated for him. "A monster from the Fade and beyond."

"A terror by the looks of it." Halward sighed, standing up. "Fenris looks like he won't be moving for a while. I say we sell it before it tries to run away."

"For the last time, father, he is a person! Treat him as such!"

"Do you want me to help or not?" 

Dorian bit his lip, not wanting to answer, watching his father move towards the door. "That's what I thought. Don't leave until he's calmed down. It's the first steps to his therapy. If he recovers,you can keep him." Halward was calling him a he now. 

"Thank you, father." Whether that was a response to Fenris' pronouns or his assistance, he wasn't sure.

"I have to write a report, find out the cause of this incident...'see if I can get someone to investigate the house. This was no accident. Next time, it could be us."

"I understand, father."

"Good. I'll check in soon."

The door closed behind Halward and silence set in, Dorian looking at Fenris with sad eyes.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked softly, offering a glass of water. Fenris just glared at him, still unsure of what to believe. Dorian withdrew and stared at him from afar like before. "I need to stay here with you, Fenris. Please don't act so hostile, it'll make this time alone longer for us both." He brought his voice to a whisper, "Don't make father sell you. It would devastate me to lose such a valuable servant."

Fenris scooted back to the furthest side of his mattress away from the mage, staring at him. His bright eyes glowing in the dark.

"It was a demon, Fenris, what part of that don't you understand? Whatever you saw-- it was not me. What did you see?"

Should he answer or ignore him? He knew what he saw--

"It was you!" Fenris shouted, feeling his body quiver. "Y-you disgusting Mage! You used me!"

"...Ah." Dorian frowned, "...I see."

"Y-you forced your cock into my mouth!" Fenris cried, "You choked me until I gagged on the floor-- crying like a pig!"

"It wasn't me!" Dorian tried reassuring him, knowing it wasn't working, "It was a fear demon; a terror... I...accidentally summoned." 

Deafening silence fell again. How did he--? No. That couldn't be right.

"You're a disgusting liar!" Fenris snarled at him again, "I may not be able to read, and I may not be able to perform and be the perfect slave! But I'm no fool! I know what I saw! I know what you did to me!"

"...Fenris, please, listen..."

"I want to return to Danarius! Please!" Fenris' changed from hostile to begging, shoulders falling in defeat as his tears returned, "I want to go home..."

Dorian was awestruck, frowning, "...You would prefer Danarius over me...after all he has done to you? Tortured you...?"

"--Yes!"

Dorians voice was cracking, he sounded weak. "I...I see..." Fenris felt the sadness in his voice, the hair on his arms standing on end. "...If that's your wish. I will write a letter trying to convince him to purchase you back." He wiped his eyes and nose on his robes, "But I beg you to reconsider, Fenris. You're...Unique. Special to me. I would hate to see you leave me back to that monster over some unfortunate circumstance formed from my own selfishness."

Fenris' glare softened, hearing the honesty rattle his master's voice. He was scared to lose him? Fenris sniffed the air, a cautious thing he did often as if trying to detect a lie. He couldn't sense one.

"Answer me this." Fenris spoke softly, trying to understand what had happened fully before he made a final decision, "...What were you trying to achieve while summoning a demon of all things? Gold? Popularity?"

Dorian was fumbling with his thumbs, twisting a ring on one of his fingers anxiously as he searched for the correct words to answer. "My temptations got the best of me. I craved contact. Sex."

Fenris' ears twitching at the word.

"I summonsed a desire demon, or so I thought. It was to take me to bed and fuck me as I begged for more." Dorian shook his head, biting his lip out of pure embarrassment. Fenris could see a deep flush creep along the corners of his cheeks. He was telling the truth. "But it wasn't-- it was a fear demon. I...miscalculated the summoning. Failing. It escaped before I could get a hold-"

"Desire demon..." Fenris repeated, "You would take the risk to summon a demon in place of intimate contact? Sex?" Fenris sounded surprised, "You could've gone to a whore house. Many women at your fingers. You could've come to me--"

"No! I would not dare use you in that manner, Fenris! I've told you before and I will say it again and again!" Dorian exclaimed. This would only mean that what he was saying was true. It was not a demon. Dorian stuck to what he promised. Not to abuse Fenris like that. "Stop trying to-- no! I do not want a sexually abused elf pleasuring me!" He took a deep breath, "And...A brothel is too dangerous. If my father found out I bed men he would-"

It clicked. If all clicked. His private, drunken intimacy with Fenris a few nights before. The flirting...

"You're..."

"Gay! Yes, Fenris, I'm well aware! I am gay! Homosexual! I enjoy the company of men over that of women! Is there a problem?"

"...No ser."

Dorian relaxed again, for his own sake. "...Yes...I'm...the way I am and my father-- he would find out. He would know."

"Let him know."

"Are you mad? Disowning me would be the least of my worries if he found out! No!" Dorian sucked in a breath, "I know what he would do, and I would prefer the alternative of staying quiet at this point rather than him have his way."

There was silence between them again, staring into each other's eyes as if trying to read each other. There was a smack of lips, and Fenris parted his hair, tucking it behind his ear.

"Let me pleasure you."

The words spilled from the elf's lips, Fenris gasped at his own reflexive nature. This wasn't like him, but the days had been filled with all sorts of changes recently. What was one more? Dorian found himself chewing the inside of his cheek at Fenris' sudden remark, eyes not moving from the elf. Focusing on his body, his words...tone. To see if he was saying through the lips of a slave.

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

"You're saying that because you're used to Danarius using you like some animal."

"I don't mind. You're different."

"Fenris- After all that you just endured-- surely you must rest and recover from that nightmare--"

Fenris forced himself to lean on his bed and grab the Mage, easily pulling him into a tender kiss. Much better than before. He could feel Dorian melt beneath him, not arguing any further. 

Anything to make his master happy, Fenris told himself.

He felt Dorians hands on the elfs aching hips.

Anything to make his master happy.

He parted his lips, inviting the elfs tongue into his mouth, where he explored his property very thoroughly.

Anything for his master.

Crawling into the mages lap to get every ounce of contact from him, hands roaming through his hair and robes, stroking his flesh, begging for more through hushed words and gritty actions.

Anything.

\---

"...Fenris."

Dorian was whispering into his ear sensually, nipping his slaves earlobe in the hazy sensation of the lusty after-sex.

It happened.

Fenris let Dorian use him. No. It wasn't a use. It was an act of intimacy. Love-making? No. Sex. There was no love behind Dorian's movements in bed. Only lust.

He didn't mind, though. Honestly. Dorian was careful, sensitive, using Fenris as physical contact as he got off to his own hand. But this time, Fenris was allowed to get off too. The mess they made wasn't too big, thankfully, Dorian picking up what he had lost and redressing himself to tend to Fenris is some comforting aftercare. 

Danarius never did this.

Danarius never told Fenris how lovely he was. He never commented on his body unless it was out of lust; Dorian had meaning behind his words.

Danarius never massaged him, kissed along his stressed skin where the lyrium burnt most. He would never comb his hair through his fingers and kiss along his jaw with soft lips.

Danarius never asked what Fenris wanted. 

Danarius never cared.

Dorian kissed up his jaw, hands gently squeezing his biceps, thanking him through gritted teeth and whispers. Fenris' ears on alert for Halward to show up any minute. But he didn't.

Dorian pressed their chests together, hands running along his body not out of greed, but out of love and comfort, wanting his slave to feel safe and relaxed.

Fenris let him use him after all.

"...You're a beautiful thing."

"...Gorgeous. Outstanding. Strong."

"I'm glad you're mine."

Fenris returned the kisses, wanting Dorian to feel the emotion behind his lips, but was almost positive his master couldn't. He felt his master caught up in the illusion of falling in love. What Dorian pretended to feel was wrong, and Fenris knew that the atlus would never go as far as romancing a slave. He wouldn't be caught dead. What Dorian said was different from what he would do, and Fenris felt that they both knew that, despite what Fenris wanted him to feel.

Dorian didn't love a slave. He was in love with the idea of ruining his fathers image by fucking a slave of the same sex. He loved the thought of House Pavus weakened at his own greedy fingers. There was no actual real romance desired from the Mage. What he truly desired was contact, to feel cared for, and for now, Fenris could provide that. He just didn't appreciate feeling like he was constantly being lied to. Though, he would never ask Dorian about it, nor did he ever plan to. 

Let Dorian pretend what he felt was real, not lust.

A part of Fenris wanted to believe it too. But it was never to come. And that was a fate he was willing to accept.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYO- I've had a lot written on this saved up, still a shitton being pumped out after this even. But I'll probably stop here for now as far as updating goes. It'll probably be a couple of weeks before I update this again, because I'm trying to fill it up with goodies.  
> ANYWAY. Fenris has some history from Kirkwall in this timeline, so here's some fun history and flashbacks and just overall sadness because I am a wreck.

"Fenris! Would you come here?"

"Yes, Master?"

"You have a letter."

They hadn't spoken in two days, since Fenris let Dorian have sex with him. Things were awkward, tense even, and the silence was between them was becoming unsettling, as it always did.

"A letter...?"

"Yes. A letter." The young Mage held up an envelope for the elf to see, plain white with a little dirt smudged across it, sealed with a thin wax. "The seal says VT. Volcanic time? Voluptuous tea?"

Fenris had to connect the sounds with the letters, just go get an idea of who could possibly be sending him a letter. VT...

Oh.

Fenris snatched it up the second he realized, eyeing the envelope carefully as Dorian eyed him.

"He's...okay. He survived."

"Who survived?" Dorian furrowed his brows, "Survived what exactly?"

There were tears in his eyes as memories of his old friend came rushing back.

"...Varric Tethras."

\- - -

"You going to finish that, broody?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your drink. You've been drinking more since Hawke snatched up that gray warden. And you've been staring at that one for nearly half an hour now." Varric smacked his lips and stared into his own tankard of ale. "Can't say I'm too happy with it either."

The dwarf sat down next to Fenris at the bar of The Hanged Man, the place Varric decided to call home it seemed. Fenris didn't usually stay in lowtown at the time, but did because Hawke would always visit darktown to "chat" with their new teammate, dragging him down with him. Otherwise, he would lock himself in his mansion at night, not to show his face until called for or morning. But as Hawke practically begged Fenris to follow him down, he couldn't help but notice the light, eager skip in Hawke's step as he slipped into the doors of Ander's clinic, leaving him behind.

It wasn't like that. It was too easy to tell. The way they looked at each other on missions...

"I'm sorry he's going through with Anders; doing this to you." Varric muttered, ordering himself another drink. "I know he meant a lot to you."

"He doesn't mean anything. Not anymore. He's a comrade as well as a full grown man." Fenris hissed between his teeth, taking a swig of his ale. "Let him make his own decisions."

"But you two were..."

"I know what we were, dwarf." Fenris growled, "I don't need another reminder." His first being the red fabric Fenris previously kept around his wrist, to always remember who he vowed his life and attention to.

But Hawke abandoned him. For what? An abomination?

Varric sighed, "It's a hard hit, I can tell."

Fenris didn't respond, staring into the golden liquid before him.

"You loved him." Fenris could hear Varric whisper over the chatter of the tavern, groaning and pushing himself away from the bar. He dropped a coin on the counter as he headed for the door.

"Broody--"

"Leave it." Fenris said, hand on the door when it knocked him back, Hawke coming through. He stunk of sex, and it caused Fenris' nose to curl up in disgust. He stumbled back only a bit, staring up at the bigger man with wide eyes, Anders right behind him, of course. Both of them a mess; their scents intertwining. 

Garrett seemed his usually self, happy and chippy, looking past the glare Fenris gave him. "Oh! Fenris! I've been meaning to talk--"

"Fuck you." The drunk elf snarled suddenly, not wanting to hear what he had to say, shoving past the other warrior, stumbling into lowtown. Hawke would've followed him, begging him to stay like a child if it was any other night. But not this time. Fenris could hear the tavern door close without the sound of footsteps trailing behind him, and it crushed his heart.

\---

Why Fenris remembered that one encounter with Varric out of the countless others, he didn't know. Maybe it was the comforting tone Varric provided during their short conversation. Or maybe it was the last time he saw Hawke as a human. Varric always spoke to him as an equal, nothing more, nothing less, even as him and Champion were involved. Varric treated him a a friend. 

"Fenris...you can talk to me--"

How long had he been standing there in silence, lost in his own thoughts? Fenris dug one of his nails into the fold of the envelope, tearing it open quickly but carefully, as if the letter could shatter in his hands. The envelope itself fell to his bare feet carelessly as he unfolded the paper from inside, immediately left dumbfounded by what any of it read.

Knitting his brows, he tried to read it, only identifying one singular letter out of the entire note. The only letter Hawke taught him how to read. An F. For his name. 

With a dissatisfied growl, the elf threw it to the floor, stepping on it. It was useless. What did Varric think when he decided to write a letter to an illiterate elf? It was pointless. Insulting, even.

"--Fenris--"

Instead if answering Dorian, he turned around to throw his fit, stomping towards the door, not hearing the Mage fiddle and move behind him.

Hand on the door, much like his memory, he heard Dorian's voice from behind. 

"...If you are reading this, I'm proud of you, Broody."

Fenris froze in place, knees locked, looking back to see Dorian straightening out the letter, reading it out loud for him. His nickname...given to him by Varric himself. The letter was real at least.

"...I wish I could say things are good. They're not. Hawke vanished with Blondie after the whole thing with Meredith...." Dorian read, gasping loudly before looking at his slave.

"Not only are you acquainted with Varric Tethras, but you were there-- in Kirkwall!"

"During the Mage rebellion, yes." Fenris whispered, hearing Dorian rush to him, wrapping his arms around the small elf. He melted into the embrace, resting his face on his shoulder out of comfort. Something he never showed.

"You...you didn't tell me."

"It was not my place to share. Nor does it matter. You bought me as a slave. Not as a companion to 'the champion'." He sneered at Hawke's title; Dorian immediately recognized his tone of voice.

"He betrayed you..." Dorian whispered, running a gently hand through his hair. "It's in your voice, your words-- he hurt you."

"Not in any sense as Danarius would."

"No! Of course not-- but what did he...?"

Fenris could feel Dorian readjusting them so he could nuzzle his collarbone and scars, giving affectionate kisses along his skin.

"Can we finish the letter...?"

"Don't avoid this with me, Fenris." His voice was stern, but not mean. "Plus, it is I reading. Not you."

Fenris gently pulled away, hearing a whine of protest come from Dorian. 

"May I sit...?"

"Of course."

Fenris seated himself on a wooden bench, seeing Dorian sit back in his much larger chair for lounging.

With a deep breath, Fenris began.

\---

"You--"

"Me...?"

"Don't play games with me, Hawke."

"Who is playing games?" That mocking voice. How Fenris used to love it when Hawke teased his enemies. But now, he was on that end, and it didn't feel so good.

"I know you're fucking that Mage." Fenris took a step towards him. "You--" Hawke just stared at him, saying nothing. "You knew this would hurt me! Why would you--"

"Fenris, you know I love you..."

The anger flickered with a bit of hope of rekindling what they had. Their deep love. But only burning away as Fenris remembered why he was at the Hawke estate in the first place. He wanted answers. He hated it when Hawke avoided him. Going behind his back-- he could see past his lies, laid out one after another to cover his ass.

Hawkes hands were on Fenris' shoulders suddenly, his lips on his own, trying to...

No. Not this. Not now. This was another one of his tricks. To make Fenris forget his anger and relax-- He was not here to be fooled again. Fenris shoved him off and slammed the bottle of wine he was drinking from to the floor of Hawkes foyer, not caring at this point if anyone was awake to hear it.

But alas, someone was. And that someone was Anders. Of course. 

"Garrett, is everything okay---"

Fenris head snapped up to the top of the stairwell, hearing Hawke groan before him. There he stood, in nothing but a robe and corset. Anders. And here Hawke was, daring to kiss him as if he actually still meant something to him when his new lover stood in his home, undressed. He knew he interrupted what was a special time to them. Ander's pale skin was flustered and bruised. Fenris could feel his blood boil beneath his skin, tattoos flaring up in pure hatred.

"You tried to trick me again!" Fenris snapped at Hawke, "You try to make me kiss and make up to forget the real problem here! I knew it was true-- you--"

"Fenris! Stop! You're--"

But Fenris was already ascending the stairs, Hawke's heavy footsteps behind him. Anders backed away, only to be grabbed by the raging elf by the throat. He slammed the apostate into the wall repeatedly, knocking the wind out of him.

"You." He snarled, giving a nice tight squeeze and hearing Anders cry right as Hawke finally caught up, trying to rip Fenris away from him. A mild annoyance, but the other warrior was bigger....stronger even, and managed to pry the elf's cold grip from the mage, throwing him across the floor.

"You son of a bitch!" Hawke flared up, kicking Fenris while he was down. "Why would you put your filthy hands on him?"

Filthy hands.

Fenris wheezed from the blow, fighting back the second he got back to his feet, only to be throw against a dresser next with ease. He could here Anders say something, but his hearing was clouded by a loud static.

"You--" Hawke snarled over Anders cries for him to stop. "We were done long before he showed up, elf!"

Elf.

"Hawke, please-- stop. You've done enough-"

Garrett grabbed Fenris by the throat, lifting him high into the air as he spat into his face, throwing his small frame over the edge of his balcony, watching him roll on the floor beneath him.

"Garrett! Stop!" Anders cried, clinging to him. "Please-- he's learned his lesson. Let's just get back to bed." Fenris, even on the floor, could hear Anders trying to kiss and coax Garrett back. The one time he could be grateful for that rotten abomination. 

Fenris coughed, pushing himself up from the floor, arms shaking. The impact was heavy. Hard to tell if it was the beating Hawke gave him or his words. 

"Let him meet his sister tomorrow and that's it. He can go. You promised him-"

There wasn't a response from Hawke that Fenris could hear, other than the sound of Hawke's bedroom door closing. An all too familiar sound.

The elf forced himself up, bleeding just a bit from scrapes. The fall did a number on his body, and he'd be covered in bruises by tomorrow. With a huff, he threw the red sash Hawke gave him to the floor, leaving the Hawke estate for one last time.

\---

"You loved him."

Words spoken all too similar as Varric had, only from Dorian, who sat perplexed before the elf.

"Yes...and he betrayed me."

"Did he bring you to your sister? As promised?"

"Yes. I wouldn't be here if he had."

Dorian took a second to process it. "She...wasn't alone I am assuming?"

Fenris nodded, wiping his eyes as visions of Danarius climbing down the set of tavern stairs returned, burned into the back of his mind. Dorian could easily identify him shaking, putting a hand on his shoulder in reassurance that he was there.

"...It was a trap. Hawke gave me over back to Danarius without as much as a second glance. He got his reward, and left." Fenris clenched his fist, "...Merrill...Aveline...Varric...Bethany...they all watched as I was made a fool."

"Did none of them-"

"Help? Hah, no. Too afraid of Hawke." Fenris sighed, "...After I returned to Danarius' estate, I heard news of Hawke's new toy destroying the Kirkwall chantry, killing hundreds. Last I heard, they vanished together, leaving everyone else behind."

Dorian nodded, "Yes, that's what I hear. Only stories. And here, I thought I just picked up a slave with not only lyrium in his skin, but a companion to the Champion of Kirkwall."

"He's not as great as the stories say. He's...awful."

"May I ask one thing?" Dorian asked, "No, I'm going to ask anyway. What makes you think Hawke fell out of love with you?"

Fenris bit his lip, shaking his head sadly. "I don't think he ever was as committed as I." With a deep sigh, "Perhaps it was because of my status as a slave. He started calling me the name of objects rather than my name. It's...stupid to think--"

"It's okay, Fenris. I understand. I believe you." Dorian gave him a small smile and picked up the letter Varric had sent. "Now, let us finish this and shall we get some tea?"

Fenris nodded, slouching his shoulders as Dorian began to read to him again, getting lost in his words and trying to picture Varric being the one talking to him. Dorian cleared his throat before beginning again. "I have tried to avoid writing you. I know Danarius is, not kind to his pets with any interests outside of him. The second I heard you were in House Pavus, I picked up my pen." Fenris smiled softly at the thought of Varric not forgetting about him, as he always wondered and worried about. "After what happened, I didn't want to take any more chances. I am sorry. I write you now from Kirkwall, home and healthy. They're rebuilding the chantry. Mages are being locked up now if seen. Merrill has gone into hiding. You would like it here."

Dorian stared at Fenris, "Have I read wrong, Fenris? Or did Varric Tethras just insinuate that you have a distaste for mages?"

Fenris swallowed, "Danarius is a Mage. The man who seduced Hawke is a Mage. That same man who destroyed a chantry and killed thousands. My distrust for them is..."

"Justified. I understand." There was sadness in Dorian's voice, but he continued to read before Fenris got a chance to respond.

"I hope the mages in Tevinter aren't as bad as they sound. House Pavus is a good place to be. Halward is respectable. I hope you are safe and well." Dorian paused to read something else, skimming over it before saying anything aloud, without Fenris' noticing. "I've written a book about it all. If you can read this, you should read it." Dorian scoffed, "Varric Tethras is promoting his literature in a personal letter! How..."

"Please go on, Dorian."

"Yes yes, of course." Dorian bit his lip, "I will visit when I can. Stay safe. Stay you. Your handsome friend, Varric Tethras."

Fenris stood then, once Dorian was finished, taking the letter from his master. "Do you mind if I keep this?"

"No no. Of course. Do what you wish." Dorian smiled, picking up the envelope from the floor. 

Fenris held the paper close to his heart, "Thank you, ser. For reading it to me as well."

"You know you don't have to use formalities with me. We've..."

"Bed each other?"

"Had sex, yes." Dorian looked towards the window. 

"I would rather not pretend to involve myself with my master. I do not-"

"Do not what, Fenris?"

Silence, "Another time, ser?"

Dorian gave him a silent stare, trying to read him, but Fenris remained calm.

"All right. Another time." He swayed his hand around, "Do what you will with that letter, and return with tea once you're done. Hot, green, a hint of mint."

Fenris couldn't help but smile just a bit. "Yes ser."


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates even slower now since this is fairly new and still being worked on. This entire fic is a WIP. Nearing its halfway point, I would think? Shorter chapters each update,,, man I'm so boring

Their interactions were much more intimate in private, and Fenris never found himself to mind. He never did. When Dorian called him to his room late at night, when everyone else was for-sure asleep, Fenris would hurry to him, loosening his uniform as he would approach his masters bedroom door. Greeted with a glass of wine and a smiling Dorian each time, things could finally make sense as to where Fenris belonged. Making his master happy.

But it never made sense.

Dorian never talked to him after sex. Nor did he look at him often. There would be a minute of aftercare or so, making sure each other were alright, then he would urge Fenris from his bed and tell him to go to his own.

It was better this way. To relieve his master of his stresses, in such a simple and consenting way, much preferable to how Fenris used to for Danarius. Even if Dorian avoided him any other time, it was better to see his master happy and sexually satisfied with his slave than not. It brought a sense of pride to Fenris that none of the other slaves had. He was treated well, used often, Fenris was sure he could feel the glares of the others slaves on his back as he worked the halls at times.

But the silence between them was unsettling. Dorian would act as if they never had any sort of contact through the nights. By now, Fenris had been owned by House Pavus for half a year, sleeping with Dorian for nearly two thirds of his time under their name. But Dorians silence was probably because of his father's strict law for his ideal son. 

When his father would bring in women for Dorian go pick from, he wouldn't. Couldn't. Lying to himself when it was in fact the touch of a male he desired was undefinable by his book. He couldn't picture himself romancing anyone identifying female, or anyone really. Dorian didn't want a relationship; he wanted sex. Desired it. Needed it. The contact is what kept him thinking he was worth something, a part of himself that his father had no control over. What was between him and Fenris was strictly physical; he would not allow any more. Though, Fenris knew this was true, a small sliver of love came to be for his Master. Another chance at love?

It was a crush at first. The day they met. Developing into something hopeful the day Dorian kissed him. After a few nights of in his room, giving his master all the pleasure he could, it became more, despite how much Fenris was against the idea. Falling in love with a Tevinter Mage of all people? Insulting to his character really; but Fenris found himself trusting Dorian more and more with each passing day.

But the elf’s heart was still fragile. Careful. Not sure he was ready to let it go again. Not after what happened with Hawke. And Dorians actions only confirmed his suspicions, keeping him distanced from any emotional attachment to Dorian. He knew better; he shouldn't give his heart to someone so prone to avoiding romance. But it didn’t keep him away.

_ _ _ 

Opening for a small festival the Pavus' held each year, the slaves remained fast on their feet, tending to guests as they poured from the front door to solicit and banter in the main foyer. Most of them dressed in black Tevinter formal wear; long dresses to dark hoods, accented with reds, golds, or whatever colors their houses were represented by. House Pavus' color was gold, so Dorian and his father were laced up in fine robes, wrapped in gold accents and gleaming jewelry. Dark makeup deepened their features, making them the most-viewed people in the party. (as always)

Guests involved other magisters and noblemen, adorned in jewels; their staffs carried lightly on their backs. Why they brought them, no one knew. A sign of pride, the slaves thought. Guests at the party involved representatives from Houses Michaelius, Alexius, and Windonia, bringing their apprentices along. Three human and one fat Qunari, oddly enough. The main members of the Houses crowded with their apprentices and stuck together mostly, and Fenris was in trusted to be in charge of focusing on tending to them.

"Oh! Servant! Here please!" A young mage would call out to Fenris. He shuffled quickly on his feet to attend to her, bowing his head respectively. "My dear, would you mind delivering a glass of red wine to Master Alexius please? He's a bit old. And his son has wandered off."

"Yes, madame." Fenris cooed, quickly returning to the kitchen and fetching what he was told. 

This happened often. Most of the apprentices stayed next to their Masters or parents. But the qunari apprentice, an obvious guest, was found in the kitchen, working alongside the slaves, at his own will. The only qunari there really. Odd, but Fenris let him be. He must've been hiding from all the blatant racism from the Tevinter magisters. How distasteful. Fenris felt a bit of pity, but didn't linger any longer, going back to take orders and greet guests.

At times, he would report to Dorian to be shown off to his friends from the Circle, all of them in awe of Fenris' brands, of course. Dorian would brag about how talented Fenris was.

"He's not wrong! I've seen the elf myself run around and tend to at least thirty of these guests in the past hour! Very impressive!" One of his friends would say, getting a grin of approval from Dorian. 

 

The other guests were chatty as ever, messy even, filling the halls with their bodies to the point where a guest would have to swerve in and out of the crowd jet to visit the chamber pot. Dorian had seemed to wander off somewhere, Fenris noticed, when he wasn't being called upon by him every ten minutes. He probably grew just as tired as the rest of the other youth of the swarming guests and obnoxious magisters. 

The festival, for some, was considered nothing more than a get together. Called a festival by others because things always went wrong. Last year, a bad trick ended up burning down a stable. Three years prior to that, a large shelf of fine Orlesian glassware was knocked over by a drunken Qunari delegate. Halward was not about to let another mistake like those happen again. This year was to be perfect.

It was a really an over-glorified book-club. Wine-testing involved as well. Near the end of the night, talks of politics was planned over a fine dinner.

Dorian had disappeared halfway through the festival, and still hadn't shown up, and Fenris was sent out by Halward to find him before dinner started. The other slaves hastened to get things done while Fenris is away, wandering the dimly-lit halls. The amount of people crowding the spaces quickly diminished into nothing but quiet halls. It was relaxing, not having to tend to every guests needs, but Fenris was still on the job.

He scanned the bathrooms and showers, not finding any traces of him. An elf's sense of scent is usually very, strong, and there was no sign of Dorian's expensive perfume he doused himself in anywhere yet. If Fenris wasn't to find the Pavus son soon, it would be on his head. He cursed silently to himself and tried to pick of the pace, looking into every room he knew Dorian visited often.

Had he gotten sick? Had too much to drink? No. The bathrooms where empty; not a trace of him. He checked his room. He was not there, but Fenris did stick his nose in a bottle of wine, opened recently. He frowned, setting it back and leaving to venture further down the main hall. Dorian's scent grew stronger. But also a scent of sweat. Brows knitted in worry, Fenris hurried along, checking each room as he passed, even the closets. 

He pushed his way into a smaller, unused study, the smell of his master was overwhelming. There was a noise, and Fenris' head snapped behind some bookshelves, set up like a library. A thud, and he heard his master moan. Ears twitching, Fenris poked his head around the edge of the shelf, looking behind, seeing the back of Dorian's head and hands pushed up against the wall, palms flat.

With a small gasp, Dorian bent his neck back in bliss, having Fenris' eyes fall in front of him to see what was the source of this.

On his knees, was Garrik, the tranquil slave Fenris roomed with, mouth devouring Dorian's cock without as much as a flinch. Fenris held back a small gasp, watching in silence. He could see the elves head bob deliciously, angled perfectly so Dorian could slide down his throat with ease. He seemed...skilled. To see Dorian so sexually primal was like watching an artist paint. It was a mysterious process that even a Fenris could admit to being curious about.

But Fenris' growing emotion for him felt like nothing now. What love and respect fell from him as fast as Garrik probably fell to his knees to pleasure him. A disgusting hate grew inside of where that love once was. To feel disregarded was one thing, but to have his emotions ripped from him was another. Was it jealousy?

A moan from Dorian again, and Fenris stepped back, hand slipping from the shelf and knocking off a book. A loud crash came from the stone floor where it hit, a loud, wet pop right after. Dorians heart raced in panic, fear of being seen. He caught a glimpse of white hair as he was covering himself with his robes.

"Fasts Vass, Fenris! What are you--"

A wide set of eyes stared back at him in disbelief, seeing Garrik rise to join Dorians side respectively, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands.

"Should I continue, ser? You had said you would've liked to finish twice this time." Garrik said, paying no mind to Fenris.

Fenris' eyes flickered back to the elf. So it was true. Dorian did not care for Fenris' feelings after all. It was nice to have some confirmation. 

"Your father wants you for dinner soon." Fenris spilled quickly, clearing his throat. He was shaking, balling his hands into tight fists. "Excuse me, Master-"

Fenris ran out. He didn't walk. He ran, as fast as he could. Trying to get the taste of Dorians scent off his tongue. It tasted of venom now.

\---

"You know how I feel for him!" Fenris snapped at the tranquil once dinner was over. The slave quarters were silent, all of them probably all trying to listen in on the conversation. "Why would you--?!"

"He had asked me to." Garrik replied with a softness in his voice. His tranquil attitude usually kept his voice calm, yet brittle. But he seemed sincere as of now. "It is my duty to-"

"Why? Why did he ask you and not me?"

"I was available." 

"But-"

"This is not the first time, Fenris. I've been here to relieve my masters son at his will long before you showed up."

Fenris growled, now hearing hate in Garriks words. The air suddenly felt heavy with competition.

"Please, guys. Relax. It is no big deal." Said Misha from the fire, trying to warm up her bread. 

Fenris flexed his finger, staring in wonder at how easy it could be to snap Garriks neck. He was thin, frail even. It could be easy.

"I am his first hand now. You will not be doing those things to him again!" Fenris snarled defensively, stepping up to Garrik, pressing his chest against his in a sort of challenge.

"For him." Garrik corrected, "He asks. I deliver. Something you must be incapable of."

The tranquil was pushing his luck, it seemed, and Fenris had already had enough. He shoved the smaller elf into the wall and threw a fist into his jaw, twisting his mouth shut in anger.

"Fenris!" Misha shouted, jumping to her feet to try to pull Fenris off. She was shoved away by Fenris the second he got he chance. She ran out the room the next second as Fenris landed a second hit.

Blood seeped from the tranquils mouth, having bitten his tongue. No tears or anger, just venom in his words. 

"I am a prized Pavus-pet. You are a Danarius-dog."

Fenris' jaw tightened as he hit him again, and again, knuckles bloody now. His hands fell to Garriks neck, tightening around it as he shoved him into the wall. The memory of wanting to kill Anders in this same way flooded back, and his grip tightened. He was to finish this time.

"Don't you dare open that mouth of yours, rat!" Fenris snarled, slamming him into the wall again and again, the life draining from his eyes. He could feel a bone or two snap from the collisions with the wall, probably ribs, and a muted gasp escaped from Garrik's lips. He kicked out his legs, trying to hit Fenris, but he was much smaller and weaker, missing, or making contact with little to no reaction from the enraged elf. 

His lyrium brands glowed bright blue already, flickering with each breath he took. He inhaled sharply before letting his forearm go transparent, glowing still. Garrik's eyes widened more as Fenris drove his hand into his chest, fingers gracing along the racing tissues of his lungs and heart. The elf could feel blood pour from where he had entered him, fingers phasing physically again while inside and getting a weakened scream as Fenris dragged a nail across Garrik's heart, tempted to puncture it.

"Fenris! Enough!"

It was Dorian at the door, Misha out of breath at his side. She had fetched him, and only him. Not a guard or his father. But Dorian.

Fenris heard his master, ignoring him, ready to kill the elf before him before he got another chance to - - -

Fenris was flung across the room, just like that, thrown into his bed, hard wood on his spine. He luckily used his ability to phase out of Garrik before he was dragged along with him. He fell to the floor, slumping and aching, watching as Dorian dropped his spell to rush over to Garrik.

"You poor thing." Dorian whimpered, adjusting his position on the floor next to the fallen tranquil , "Misha! Quickly! Fetch my father! He's dying!"

"But, Ser-!"

"Go!" Dorian shouted again, a light green emitting from his palms as he tried to heal him. Garrik was panting, gagging on something. Blood, most likely. 

Fenris could hear crying, ears perking. Both of them. Garrik was weak and hurting from the pain, not from the fear of death, and Dorian's voice was cracking with each attempt of soothing him. 

Dorian was crying. Dorian. It was hard to grasp the idea. Crying for his slave. Muttering quietly to him, trying to hold his head up, brushing his hair back from his face. "It'll be okay, Garrik. Just please stay awake for me." Fenris could see blood seep from his lips, and Dorian choked, combing his hair and keeping his head up, pressed against his torso.

The air was thick with silence.

Garrik had stopped breathing, Fenris could hear his deep breaths cease, and his chest tightened up. Dorian's back fell in defeat, crying louder, trying to shake the elf awake again. 

"Garrik...please, wake up." He sobbed into his hair after a few shakes of his shoulders, "Please, wake up. Don't sleep yet-- I told you not to sleep yet." 

Fenris blinked slowly at the sight, glancing at the red on his hand. "Master--"

Dorian's head turned slowly, facing Fenris only halfway and glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

"You damned animal! Look what you've done!" Dorian sobbed, wiping his eyes. His elaborate make up from the earlier party had run down his cheeks, streaking his face in black.

Fenris frowned, crawling over to his master slowly, stopping when the Mage fell over Garrik defensively. Protecting him.

"Don't you dare!" Dorian snapped, "Don't you dare come any closer! Or I swear I will kill you myself!"

Fenris' ears fell, and he sat back down his ass, looking at his knuckles as he heard Halward rush in with Misha. There was a muted gasp from her when she came into view of Garrik's still body, leaning on the wall for support.

"Shit--Dorian! To your room!" Halward insisted, gently pushing him away from Garrik. Dorians weak restoration magic was quickly replaced with a much stronger force.

It took a second for Dorian to actually let go of Garrik, scared to let go. "Father- please."

"Dorian! I need to focus here!" Halward hissed as he looked over Garrik, "There's still time! Take those others elsewhere!"

There was Dorian already shoving the other two elves out the room so his father could work.

\---

Dragged into the library, sitting in an obscene silence together. Fenris was afraid to speak to his master, keeping his head low to avoid any gaze that may come his way.

"I cannot believe you!" Dorian hissed at Fenris finally, who was forced to sit down in a chair. Misha was excused to busy herself with cleaning while Dorian dealt with him. "You attack him? A tranquil, Fenris! Who in the right mind attacks a tranquil! Nothing he could've done or said should've pushed you to do that to him!"

Fenris didn't respond, head dropped. There was no news on whether or not Halward was able to save Garrik or not, but he feared facing Halward again. He wasn't ready to be punished or sold again, if he were that lucky. Garrik's death was-- mostly an accident. He let his anger get the best of him. A foolish mistake, but not the first. There was no way he would be able to explain it however. 

Dorian was pacing in front of him, running a hand through his hair in worry. "I-I saw my poor elf die! Right there! In my arms! Do not tell me you were the only one who did that to him! His face was beaten and bloody!" Fenris didn't say anything, getting Dorians impatience to flare up. "Answer me!"

"No ser. I was the only one."

"And can you tell me why? Tell me why you killed my damned favorite slave!"

Fenris' lips screwed shut. Garrik was his favorite too...?

"Because...he was..."

"Not because he was tranquil! Maker forbid you killed the poor thing because of how he was!"

Fenris shook his head, "No ser-- it was because he was...what he did during the party. To you. In private..."

Dorians head flickered toward him, "What? Is that all? You must be joking!" His voice was cracking, "You murdered a poor, helpless slave because I told him to suck me off?!"

It sounded worse when he phrased it like that.

"No-ser--"

"Oh yes! Yes you did! You--" Dorian was at a loss of insults, "What did you expect me to do? I am a young man!" Fenris just mumbled something not loud enough for his master to hear, "Excuse me, Fenris? Speak up!"

"You could've called me to do it. Not him."

There was a loud gasp of realization then. "You-- you were jealous of him?" He quipped, "You were jealous of a measly little tranquil sucking my cock so you killed him?!"

"Master, I--"

"No! That's ridiculous! You are a murderer! And I will not have anything to do with a murderer!"

Halward rushed into the room then, anger knitted into his brows. "So tell me what happened?"

"What could you do father?" Dorian asked immediately before answering his own question.

"I managed to get the elf revived, but he's not exactly stable. He needs more healing. More time. But he's alive."

Dorian heaved a sigh of relief, "Oh thank the Maker..." 

"Now tell me."

"Fenris had attacked him." Dorian spilled immediately. There was a pause where Fenris was sure he was making up a lie about as to why he would, so his father stayed unaware of his scandals. "Garrik had made a comment of Danarius being tolerable."

Halward snorted, "Is that really it? One mad comment about a rotten man, and it drove him to kill him?" Halward looked at Fenris then, expecting an answer. What a god awful lie, Dorian, he thought.

"Yes ser. I am sorry ser. My temper got the best of me."

"Hmph. I should punish you." Fenris tensed up, ready to hear and accept his punishment for his murder. But Halward scoffed, "But I need a fighter."

"Father-?"

"Hush, Dorian. Our guards have been slacking. I've heard of his abilities when Danarius would brag of him. I would like Fenris to train with them and possible teach them a thing or two." Halward pursed his lips together, "Fenris had managed to rupture the insides of him without puncturing his flesh...remarkable--"

"But what about Garrik? He did kill him after all!" Dorian was trying to egg his father on to really make a sort of punishment for him, more than training a few lousy humans.

"Hm. Ten lashes with the whip. No food for two days. Good?"

"Three!" Dorian tried for more, giving a glare to his slave.

"Two. I cannot have a weak fighter training my guards. He will be given a well made dinner before I set him to train." Halward was going easy on him.

"But-"

"Son. If he does well, there is a chance he will get hurt when I send my guards and him off to collect things for me. Let that be his punishment. A bodyguard. For us. To taste test your food for poison. Is that not enough?"

"Yes, but--"

"Then that will be all." Halward said, lifting Fenris up. "I will be taking this to force him to apologize to Garrik when he comes through. Until he can work again, Fenris will be doubling up his duties."

Dorian balled his fists, but this meant he would be seeing him less. "Fine with me. Take the rotten thing!"

"Remember. He is your slave. Not mine. You can sell him if you want. It is no skin off my back, Dorian."

The boy scoffed, "Already considered. But sending him back now would be all too good for him. I have arrangements to make. Excuse me, father."

Halward nodded and dragged Fenris by the arm out of the room to pay a visit to Garrik

\--

Garrik laid still in a bed, trying to heal in the same guest room Fenris was put in when he was attacked by the demon. A healer hovered above him, watching the elf blink back up at her slowly, through swollen eyes. Fenris could only stare in silence and hope the other slave couldn't see him.

Too late for that. Halward was already talking to him loud enough for Garrik to hear.

"So my son told you to lie, hm?" He asked Fenris, the back of his palm checking Garrik's temperature by resting on his forehead. "About why the fight was initiated."

Fenris' ears flickered. How would Halward know anything about Dorian's lies?

"Garrik told me the truth when he came to. All of it."

Oh. That's how. Of course. Damn the tranquil to the fade. All of them. They were nothing but a mild annoyance at this point. Though, considering, the fade or even death would be preferable to being tranquil, or so Fenris hears.

"The truth?" Fenris asked, hoping Halward was just bluffing at this point.

"How Garrik was having sexual relations with my son in private. Yes. The truth." Halward insisted. Fenris could see the other elf's head slowly fall to the side to look at his guests. "Dorian told you to lie."

"Yes ser, but that doesn't excuse my-"

"Oh! Of course it does." Halward turned to the branded slave, "Garrik should be the one punished for going behind my back as my most trusted slave; only to have sex with my son." Halward took in a deep breath, "But...You've already done that for me. I should thank you."

Fenris was relieved, shoulders slumping at the news. 

"You will not be punished. Neither will Garrik. That was all a show for Dorian. Let him think he's won. Gotten away. He will be the one punished. Not you two."

Fenris looked up at him, "But...I killed Garrik..."

"Rightfully so. You know how I take pride in my sons presented sexuality. You were protecting me by ridding of the problem; being Garrik. A noble thing. But it won't happen again, right, Garrik?"

The elf opened his mouth to speak, making a soft squeak instead and closing his eyes with a nod. Halward grinned. 

"Garrik is a good boy. He was only doing what was told of him. A tranquil has no mind of its own." Halward combed back Garrik's hair, "I am grateful to have my favorite slave alive. He will be healed soon." Halward gently rolled Garrik's head back onto his pillow, facing up, so he could sleep comfortably.

"Come now, Fenris. Let's establish your training regimes. Because I do intend on having you train my guards. The bunch of slackers..."

Fenris nodded and followed him out to his office.


End file.
